Cry Because It Happened
by A Thing For Brothers
Summary: Charlie returns home after being away for three months on assignment for the NSA. While away, he was captured, but Don and Alan don't know. Will Charlie tell them? Official title is Don't Smile Because It's Over. Cry Because It Happened, but it didn't fit
1. Don't Smile Because It's Over

**Hello again! This is the long story I've been telling you about. I am SO excited about this. I think it'll be one of my best, if not the best, Numb3rs story I've done. I must warn you, though, that it shows just how dark and twisty I can be. That's not a good thing. Some scenes will be scary, or disturbing. But that just means the angst will be that much greater. Also, I have to warn you that I am an education major, and I will be starting toward my bachelor's degree as of August 25. I doubt I will be able to update fast at all, so it will be a slow-moving story. If I ever get to a point where I absolutely cannot focus on writing and have to focus only on my schooling, I will pass it along to another writer, if they would do that for me, or I will put the story on hold. I hate to do that to you, but I had to write this story. I will do my best, but school comes first.**

**Now, to end on a higher note. I hope you enjoy this piece. It is inspired by a brief scene from season one of the TV show Bones. I do not own Numb3rs, or Bones, and make no profit by writing this story. Also, the title is taken from Dr. Seuss' quote "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." He gets the credit for that, I just switched a couple words. The only profit I get is the lovely reviews you will send me. Right? Right? Enjoy!**

Charlie's legs twitched as he sat on the airplane, preparing to land back in California. He had spent three months away from home, on an assignment from the NSA. He laughed. It was true what they said about them. "Never say anything." Charlie had had no idea where he was going until they arrived in El Salvador. Even then, he wasn't positive why he was there. It wasn't until he was settled in his tent that he was told his job, and he was ready to leave right then. But he had stayed, and he regretted it now more than anything else.

When he told his family he would be gone so long, Don picked up almost immediately what he was doing. He knew that Charlie was on an assignment, and it made Don worry. Charlie tried to reassure him, but he didn't know how exactly at the time, since he didn't know what he'd be doing either. Charlie hated that he had left his family for so long, but that's how long the job had taken, among other things.

_Don. _Charlie smiled at the thought of his older brother, and he was thankful that it didn't hold that heartache and fear it had over two months ago. _Stop thinking about that, Charlie. You know what that will do._

Charlie had to shake him from where the thoughts were leading him. He had been told not to think about it. The less he thought about it, the less likely he would have another panic attack. So Charlie just let himself that he should be happy he would be returning home, and would finally see his family again. He hadn't even been able to contact them in a couple weeks. He let them know when he was returning home, but that was the extent of it. Charlie had never spent so much time away from home, at least with so little contact.

Charlie wanted nothing more than to hold onto his family until his arms couldn't hold them any longer. However, he was supposed to act normal, as if everything were fine. He was tired of never saying anything, but he knew he could do it. He'd done it before, he'd do it again.

As the plane touched ground, and Charlie left the plane, he put his acting skills to work and put a smile on his face.

--

Don hated to admit it, but he had really missed his brother. It had been three months since Don had seen his brother, and two weeks since he'd heard from him. Don remember after Charlie had barely been gone a week, and he had told Don and Alan that he wouldn't be in contact until further notice. The silences scared Don the most. He wasn't sure what his brother was doing, and even tried to figure out. He didn't have the clearance for it, though. So he had to be like his father, and simply wait around to hear from Charlie.

Charlie had never contacted them by phone. Don wasn't sure if that was for security reasons, or if it was just Charlie's preference. Either way, Don would have liked to hear his brother's voice. Charlie's voice said more than his writing. Don could read his brother's emotions in just Charlie's voice. He knew what every stutter, every pause, and every tone meant. Not hearing Charlie's voice only made Don worry more, because he had no idea what his brother was feeling. Charlie always said he was fine, but sometimes Don knew that to mean the exact opposite. He had no way of telling the difference, and that scared him.

Now, Don was standing in the airport, waiting for his brother to arrive. His father was standing beside him, nervously checking the window a few feet away, and then his watch. Don tried to calm his father, but Alan was too eager to see his son again.

When he saw the swarm of people coming toward them, Don's smile grew. He searched the crowds, searching for that one head of curls.

"Don!" Alan pointed out Charlie, trailing the group of people. Don had to put a hand on his father's arm to keep Alan from running to Charlie. However, when Charlie saw them, his own face broke out into a grin, and he ran to them.

"Charlie!" Alan took only one step, and Charlie was in his arms.

Charlie ignored all he'd been told. He could not act normal. He couldn't act like he hadn't missed his family more than anything in the world. He needed them, and he was going to show it all he wanted.

"I missed you, Dad."

Alan smiled, feeling tears of joy in his eyes. "I missed you, too, son."

Charlie managed to push himself away so he could look in his father's eyes. He smiled. "I love you, Dad."

Alan actually gasped. As much as he knew his sons loved him, he hadn't heard them verbalize it in years.

"I love you, too." Alan hugged Charlie once more, then Charlie took a step toward his brother.

Don smiled brightly. "Hey, Buddy."

Charlie stared openly at his brother a moment, taking him in. He searched for any sign of injury, and was pleased when he didn't find any. After standing still, he launched himself in Don's arms without warning.

"I love you, Donny."

Don wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, after the initial shock. He held his brother tightly, having missed him. "I love you, too, Buddy."

Don started to push back, thinking the hug should be over, but his brother simply held him tighter. Don frowned in concern, but held his brother with more strength. One shudder escaped Charlie, and Don noticed. He moved his hand up and down his brother's back, and held him tightly. His brotherly instincts went up, and he felt a strong need to protect Charlie.

As Charlie finally stepped back, Alan did not miss the exchange. He shared a look with Don, one that held the same concern. However, once out of Don's arms, Charlie's smile returned and he picked his luggage back up.

"Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Sounds like a good idea." Don winked at Alan, and Charlie noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Alan replied, suppressing a laugh.

"How does Mexican sound?" Don asked.

"Sounds great." Charlie nodded, looking between his father and brother. They were up to something.

"Have you been eating okay? You look thin."

"I'm fine, Dad. Stop worrying."

Don was happy to hear Charlie say that. Having read his brother's voice, Don truly believed his brother was fine.

Charlie felt safe and happy when he got in the back seat of Don's SUV. He rested his head against the seat, closing his eyes in comfort.

"So, how was your... trip?" Alan wasn't sure how to ask.

"It was fine, successful." Charlie knew he couldn't say much past that, so he didn't even try.

"That's good. That's good." Alan managed a smile.

Don looked in his mirror at his brother, catching him with a furrowed brow. Concerned, Don glanced from the road to his brother. Soon the furrow was gone, and Charlie's face was a mask of calm.

When they got to the restaurant, Charlie wondered why they didn't wait to be seated. He clearly remembered seeing a sign that said to wait for a host to seat them. However, when they reached the back room, Charlie finally caught on when he heard the unmistakable sounds of his friends.

"You didn't," Charlie accused, already smiling. Don and Alan let Charlie take the lead, grinning like fools.

"Surprise!" Megan screamed, the only one paying attention. All chatter ceased and everyone turned to look at Charlie. Finally, the others joined in with their surprises and rushed to greet Charlie.

"You shouldn't have," Charlie said as he shook Colby's hand, then David's. Megan enveloped him in a hug, and soon Larry and Amita followed.

"Yes, we should have! We missed you, Charlie," Megan replied enthusiastically.

"It's been weird without you, man." David clapped Charlie on the shoulder, not even noticing the small whimper it emitted from Charlie.

"I've missed you all, too. It was weird being away so long." Charlie smiled, masking the pain.

"So, Whiz Kid, what were you doing?"

Charlie's smile vanished. Colby's question could not be answered truthfully.

Don saw his brother's face and elbowed the agent. "Come on, Colby. You ever heard of what NSA stands for?"

Colby looked confused, and Megan, David, Charlie, and Don filled him in together.

"Never say anything," they said in unison, then laughed.

"I've missed you, Charles. I must say, it shows on your students' faces, as well. They'll be happy to have you back for fall semester."

Charlie smiled. "I missed you, too, Larry. It'll be good to get back in the classroom."

"All right, all right. We can catch up later. Let's eat!" Don finally got the group to sit down. A few waiters came by, and Don ordered almost everything on the menu, it seemed to Charlie. Everyone made small talk, catching Charlie up to what he missed while he was away. No one mentioned what Charlie could have been doing while he was away, and no one asked him. Charlie preferred it that way.

When the food arrived, everyone stopped talking. Charlie wondered if his assumption was right, and Don did order everything on the menu. The table soon became covered with food, barely leaving room for their drinks or plates. As a waitress placed a hot pan of salsa in front of him, Charlie's eyes widened. He had seen a pan that looked almost identical to that one, but it had been used for a completely different purpose.

Once the waitress stepped away, Charlie's eyes became fixed on the pan. His breathing came out in quick puffs through his nose, and he fought to remember what he'd been told to do.

_"Charlie, you can't keep having these flashes. When you start to remember what happened, think of something else. What do you love?"_

_"Numbers," Charlie answered readily._

_"Recite numbers in your head. You can't keep having these panic attacks. You're beating your body up. Don't remember. Push it away with numbers. You can do that."_

So Charlie tried to ignore the flashes of memory when that searing hot pan had been used to break all of his toes at once. He ignored the pain that went along with it, and his toes instinctively curled in his shoes. He recited the numbers of pi in his head, trying to get rid of the memories, since his breathing was speeding up even more.

Unaware of the world around him, Megan had moved to Charlie side after seeing his unfocused eyes, heard his fast breathing. Again, all talking ceased as everyone turned to Charlie. Don and Alan rushed to Charlie, as Megan tried to coax Charlie out of his daze.

Rubbing his arm, Megan talked to Charlie. "Charlie, come on now. You're okay. Look at me. You're okay."

Alan had taken Charlie's hand and was squeezing it tightly in his. Don watched with concern and fear as he stood beside Charlie.

Charlie's breathing began to slow, and when he felt hands on him, he jumped.

"Easy. You're okay," Megan soothed again, seeing the light flick on again.

Charlie looked around, seeing that everyone was watching him. He had to put his mask on quickly, and finally turned back to Megan.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry. It's silly..."

"You're sure? It seemed pretty serious to me," Colby said, worried for his friend.

Charlie managed a laugh. "I'm sure. It was the salsa... I had salsa with every meal for over two months. I just didn't think I'd have to see it again so soon. I was fighting nausea."

Don stepped forward then. "Oh, Buddy, I'm sorry. I had no idea where you had gone. If I had known... you should have told me! We didn't have to do it here. We should go."

"No! Don, I'm okay. Really. Let's just have a good time. I'm sorry I worried you."

"It's okay," Megan said as she stood to go back to her seat. She had a feeling it was more than nausea that had bothered Charlie, but she wouldn't push it.

The rest of the meal was spent happily enjoying each other's company. Charlie began to tire, having gotten up early for his flight. Alan picked up on it and soon the group dispersed.

"It's really good to have you back, Charlie." Amita hugged Charlie on her way out.

"You, too, Amita." Charlie smiled, never sure what was friendly and what was romantic.

Everyone gave their goodbyes to Charlie and soon they were back in Don's SUV. Charlie let his eyes close in the back seat, and in the short time it took for them to get home, he fell asleep.

When Don pulled into the driveway, he turned around to speak to his brother. He hadn't gotten a word out when he saw his brother sound asleep. He smiled at first, then frowned when he noticed the way Charlie was sleeping. He had his arms held protectively against his stomach, and his legs were bent. It appeared he was going for the fetal position, but it had failed due to the seat belt.

Don searched his brother's body, looking for signs of injury. It was impossible to tell, for the only skin exposed was his neck up and his hands. Charlie wore jeans and a light long-sleeved shirt. Don wondered if that was a coincidence or if Charlie had planned it that way.

"I'll get him up," Alan said as he got out of the car. He opened the back door and reached in to shake his son from slumber. Don continued to watch Charlie, wondering what the reaction would be.

"Charlie? Charlie, wake up, son." Alan reached in and shook Charlie's shoulder. Charlie whimpered and curled into himself as best he could.

"Charlie!" Alan said louder as he shook his son again. Charlie woke up with a start. It took him a minute to realize where he was, and when he did, he quickly unfastened his seat belt.

"I'm awake," Charlie announced and was surprised to see his brother looking at him suspiciously. It made him wonder if he'd done something in his sleep. He quickly smiled and got out of the car, knowing Don's eyes were still on him.

Charlie took his luggage inside, and breathed in deeply. Home. He had missed it. He walked down the hall, sure to look at the wall of photos. He was happy to see his mother's face again. He had missed it.

"Welcome home, kiddo," Alan said as he passed his son. He patted Charlie's arm and went into the living room. Charlie smiled as his father walked away, and saw his brother coming up behind him.

"Hey, Charlie, can I talk to you for a sec?" Don asked.

"Sure." Charlie let Don lead him into the backyard. Instinctively, Charlie headed for the koi pond. He realized how much he had missed the fish then, as well.

"Charlie, did... did anything happen on your trip?" Don asked, a little unsure.

Charlie looked at his brother blankly. He didn't react, and he was proud of him for it.

"Look, I know, 'never say anything,' and all that, but you know you can talk to me, right? I wouldn't say a word."

"I know, Don. Nothing happened. I mean, yeah, I saw some bad things but... it's over now. I'm okay." Charlie smiled convincingly.

Don smiled in return. "Okay, Buddy. I just worry about you."

"I know." Charlie squeezed his brother's shoulder as he returned inside the house. He went upstairs, dragging his luggage behind him. He set his luggage down on his bed, then sat beside it. He flopped down on his bed, thankful to have his own room back.

Charlie heard the shower running as he made his way back downstairs. His father was watching the nightly news, so Don must have been in the shower. Charlie went into the kitchen, and found on the dining table his brother's badge and gun. His eyes fixed on the badge, and he stiffly moved to sit in the chair closest to it. Tentatively, he reached out and touched the badge, closing his eyes, remembering how one so similar had felt.

Charlie shivered, remembering how he had felt thinking his brother had been captured. He had no explanation, no understanding of how it had happened, but the fear was there. Charlie frowned, remembering how it felt as he traced the badge with his fingers, reading the badge without sight.

"What are you doing?" Don asked as he came into the dining room. He didn't mind his brother looking at his badge, but the way he sat there with his eyes closed and a frown on his face made Don worry.

Charlie jumped, startled out of his memories. "Uh, nothing. Nothing." He tried twice, making sure his voice sounded stronger the second time.

Don ran a towel over his damp hair as he walked up to his brother. He stood over Charlie's chair, looking down at the badge in Charlie's hand.

"Everything okay?" Don asked, tilting his head so he could see his brother's face.

"Yeah. Fine. Everything is fine." Charlie put on a fake smile.

After hearing his brother speak it, Don wasn't sure he was happy being able to hear his brother's voice again. Because this time, it was obvious that Charlie was anything but fine.

**First chapter! Woot! Did I spark your interest yet? Mwahahahaha! I hope you liked it. For future reference, I don't know much about the NSA, or what they do, so if the case I present doesn't make sense, either let me know what's wrong with it, or go along with it. LOL I don't claim to know this stuff.**


	2. Memories Consume

**Hey, again! How is everyone? I am SO happy about all the reviews. I don't remember getting so many on a first chapter! Thank you so much, guys! I really appreciate it. Since it's gotten good feedback already, I think this will need extra time and consideration, but I will try to update as quickly as I can. Thanks for your comments!**

**To BBs Three, if you're reading, if you know more about the NSA, feel free to contact me. If you're confused about why Charlie went to El Salvador and what not, it will make sense later. There is a connection to America's national security. Okay? I hope you don't mind. Let me know if you have some ideas, though. Thanks!**

_**Over Three Months Ago**_

_"Professor Eppes, we need you to come with us." Agent Mark Garrison stood above the professor in his office. His stance showed no room for argument. His folded arms over his chest made him look angry, mixed with the straight face he made._

_"Agent, I haven't had to leave on assignment for years. Why now?"_

_"We've followed your work with the FBI. Your tracking skills have proved invaluable. Frankly, we see no other consultants with the clearance or the knowledge that you have," Agent Richard Anderson put in. He tried to be the "good cop" of the situation, but he was not against going bad cop-bad cop on Professor Eppes. _

_Charlie smiled. "I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I can't help you. I'm busy enough with my schedule here at CalSci, and on top of that, I consult for the FBI. Also, I'm working on my cognitive emergence work. I just don't think I can do it."_

_Agent Garrison took a step forward, threatening._

_"You misunderstood me, Professor. This isn't a request."_

_Charlie looked from one agent to the other. He could see their determination. There was no getting out of this. Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his forehead, warding off the start of a very large headache._

_"What would I have to do?" Charlie asked, resigned._

_"You'll find out later."_

_"How long is the assignment?"_

_"That will depend on how fast you can work. It hasn't been determined yet." Mark watched the professor intensely, as if he could will him to agree to working._

_"Fine. I'll do it."_

_"We'll pick you up at your house in one week. Make arrangements in that time." Agent Garrison turned and headed for the door._

_"I will." Charlie looked down at his desk, wondering what he was getting himself into._

_"Thank you, Professor," Agent Anderson said before he followed his partner._

Charlie woke the next morning, wondering why the memory seemed so strong in his mind. If he had known how things would end up, he never would have agreed to it. He doubted the NSA would have asked him to do it, if they had known what would happen.

Charlie sat up on the edge of his bed, pressing his bare feet to the cold, wood floor. He breathed in deeply a few times, taking in the day. He took the advice he had been given almost a month ago. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and repeated to himself aloud the mantra he'd been given.

"I'm alive. I'm safe. My family is alive. My family is safe. I have another day to live, another gift. I will not waste it."

Charlie raised his head and stood. He walked to his closet and pulled out an outfit to wear, careful to pick one that would cover most of his skin. He planned on going to CalSci to meet with the administration about when he could start back. The summer semester was almost over, so he should be able to start as usual in the fall. He had to make sure, and wanted to see what he had missed in the three months he had been away.

After getting a shower and getting dressed, Charlie went downstairs, smelling the coffee from the front of the house. He walked into the kitchen and found Alan working at the stove, and Don pouring himself a cup of steaming coffee.

"Good morning," Charlie greeted, flashing a smile.

Don turned his head as he was pouring his coffee. "Hey, Buddy. Sleep well?"

Charlie turned to sit down at the kitchen table. "Yeah, pretty well-"

"Damn it!"

"I'm sorry. I slept bad?" Charlie began to say as he turned around to face his brother. He wasn't sure why his brother seemed upset that he had slept well, until he saw the coffee sloshing over his cup and covering his hand.

"Donny!" Alan said, part reprimand, part concern.

Charlie quickly stood and crossed to his brother. He took the towel off the counter and rapidly wiped up the coffee off Don's hand and cup.

Don set down the cup and looked at his hand. Groaning, he saw the red splotches covering his left hand. In the time he turned toward his brother and turned back, the coffee had begun to overflow and spill over the sides and onto his hand.

"I'll get it!" Charlie nearly shouted and bolted from the room. Alan and Don watched him go. Then, they turned to each other, a look of confusion on both their faces.

Charlie returned with nearly the entire bathroom cabinet. He had his arms full of gauze, antibiotic ointments, band-aids, medications, and medical tape. He emptied his arms onto the kitchen table and nearly dragged Don over.

"I-I brought everything I thought might work. Sit!" Charlie pushed on Don's shoulder, making his brother sit at the chair closest to the items Charlie brought.

"Slow down, Buddy. It's just a burn."

"Here. Let me." Alan wiped his hands off with a paper towel after washing his hands. He moved over to the table and took Don's hand gently in his. Quickly and efficiently, Alan wrapped Don's hand in gauze after applying antibiotic ointment.

"There. Good as new." Alan lightly patted Don's hand and turned back to the stove.

Charlie's eyes were fixed on Don's hand. He waited for the memories to pass, memories of the boiling hot water that had touched his skin. He remembered how he would have given anything to feel the burns bandaged and treated. But he hadn't for almost a week. By that time, they'd become infected.

"Charlie?" Don turned to his brother after inspecting his father's handiwork. When he saw his brother's eyes fixed on his hand, his breathing irregular, he wondered what had happened.

"Charlie? Did you get hurt?" Don rounded the table to his little brother. The concern in his voice caught Alan's attention and he frowned when he saw his youngest son simply staring, unresponsive.

Charlie heard his brother's voice and forced himself to look at Don. He also remembered the fear when he thought his brother was hurt. He couldn't let that happen now.

"You okay, Donny?" Charlie asked timidly.

Don sighed with relief. "I'm fine, Charlie. It was just a burn. Are you okay?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what came over me. I was just worried about you." Charlie reached out and softly touched Don's bandage. He stroked it a moment, then stood from the table.

"I'm not hungry, Dad. You two enjoy yourselves. I'm heading over to CalSci."

"Okay. You want something for lunch? I could fix you a sandwich."

Charlie smiled. "No thanks, Dad."

"See you later, Buddy," Don called as Charlie headed down the hall.

"Bye, Don!" Charlie called on his way out the door.

Don turned to his father as Alan brought him a plate of blueberry pancakes. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, Don. It's pretty typical of your brother to rush out without a meal, but I've never seen anyone react that way to a simple burn. You are okay, aren't you, Donny?"

Don smiled. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

"Good, if it gets hurting, just take some ibuprofen. It should heal fine."

"Thanks. This looks delicious."

"Just like your mom made them." Alan smiled as he sat down with his plateful.

Don smiled in return, only to feel it slowly fade away as his thoughts returned to his younger brother. Charlie had made a similar face twice now since he'd been home, and Don couldn't help but feel as though he'd seen it before. Don remembered when Charlie was younger he used to have panic attacks. Don remembered how Charlie had a panic attack once simply because he had been playing hide-and-seek with Don. He had decided to hide in the closet, and it was then he realized his fear of enclosed spaces. Also, Charlie had had a panic attack after their mother's death. Don could remember Charlie trying to fight the attacks before, and he had had a similar reaction. Don wondered if Charlie was fighting the attacks again, and if so, why.

--

After talking to administration, Charlie went to celebrate in his office. He was happy to hear that he would be teaching again, as usual, in the fall. He had hated missing out on classes. He hadn't even made it through finals' week of spring semester. He was a dedicated teacher, and he wanted to be there for students who needed his help. Charlie just hoped his replacement had filled his position well while he was gone.

As soon as he opened the door to his office, he felt at home. The smell of chalk and paper assaulted his nose, and he breathed it in, the smells he craved. As if in a trance, he took a piece of chalk and walked to the nearest board and began writing. Chalk dust flew around him as his fingers moved. He had gotten so far away from this while he was away. It was all paper and pen, but nothing compared to the sound of chalk on a board.

Here, he could lose himself. Here, he could forget what happened. It was here that he felt free, free of memories. It was the one place in his life he felt true peace.

And then his cell phone rang.

Cursing himself for even bringing it into such a space, Charlie dug it out of his pocket, and considered ignoring it... or chucking it.

"Hello?" Charlie let the annoyance creep into his voice as he answered the phone.

"Charlie? It's me."

"Hey, Don. What's up?" Charlie tried to change the tone of his voice, so his brother wouldn't be suspicious.

"You free for lunch?"

"Actually, I'm in the middle of something. Rain check?"

"Sure. That's fine." Charlie could hear disappointment in Don's voice, and wondered if something was wrong.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry you. Just thought we could catch up."

"Oh. Well, I should be free later in the week. How about then?"

"Okay."

Charlie swallowed hard. "How's your hand?"

"It's fine, Buddy. Don't even worry about it. Are you okay? You sounded a little upset."

"Yeah. I'm just in my office. I was working, so I was a little distracted."

"All right. I'll let you get back to it, then. See you later, Buddy."

"Bye."

Charlie shut the phone and returned to the board. His hand had barely raised when his thoughts took over, before he could even return to his chalkboard utopia.

_"Here? We barely went anywhere! Why can't I stay home?" Charlie demanded when they barely drove outside of LA._

_"It's for security purposes, Dr. Eppes. We know your relationship with your older brother. We can't have him interrupting your work, and we certainly can't have you telling him anything." Agent Anderson stood beside the professor at the small condo the NSA rented. They needed to keep Charlie as secluded as possible, and this was the best they could find._

_Charlie's throat worked. "Can I go home? Just to visit?"_

_"I'm sorry, Dr. Eppes. Your communication with your family will have to be brief, and quite limited. This is a matter of national security." _

_"To hell with national security! What about my family?" Charlie's anger took over and he stomped his foot._

_"Your family will benefit more from your silence. You do realize that Los Angeles is the primary target."_

_Charlie paled, and he shut his mouth. "What do you want me to do?"_

--

Don stretched as he stepped out of his car. His neck ached from being inside so long. Usually, his team saw more action during the day. Instead, they had hit an abnormal lull and got stuck doing paperwork. Don hated sitting behind his desk, and sitting all day had made his body sore. He was happy to stand and walk around as he made his way inside his brother's house. It was late at night, and he would be surprised if anyone was still up.

As Don tried to door, he found it locked. He took out his key and quickly opened the door. He closed the door as quietly as he could and looked around. The house was dark, so he knew his family would be in bed. Sighing, he moved to the kitchen through the dark.

Flipping on a light, he walked over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. His head pounded and he pressed the cool bottle to his forehead for a moment, before taking off the cap and drinking.

He had barely raised the bottle to his lips when he heard his brother scream. Dropping the bottle, he heard it crash to the floor as he left the kitchen at a run, grabbing the gun at his side. His brotherly instinct told him to run up the steps and rush through the door. However, he had been trained well enough to know that he would do more damage that way. So Don took the steps slowly, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Charlie screamed again, and his heart raced. Don made his way to Charlie's door and opened it just a crack and looked through. He couldn't see anything, so he kicked the door open the rest of the way.

Gun drawn, Don searched the room, but all he found was his little brother struggling on his bed. He had made his sheets a tangled mess and he tossed and turned in them. Sweat slid down Charlie's face from his forehead, and his breathing was ragged at best.

"Charlie, wake up." Don shook his brother's shoulder as he replaced his gun in its holster. He sat down on the edge of the bed by Charlie.

Charlie slept fitfully. His dreams had taken over and transformed into the worst kind of nightmare. He was reliving something that had happened only a month ago, and he couldn't escape it. Crying out for his brother, he begged for Don. Don was the only one who could save him. Even this far away, Don would know. His brother would save him.

"Don! Donny! Help me! Please!" Charlie screamed, hoping Don would hear him.

"Charlie! Wake up!" Don screamed in return as he shook his brother. The fear in his brother's voice scared him. He had to get Charlie to wake up, for his own sake, if not Charlie's.

Charlie's eyes opened as he shot up to a sitting position, but he failed to focus on anything. Somehow still in his dream, he screamed in terror. He couldn't see, blinded.

"Don!"

"I'm right here!" Don said loudly. He hadn't moved from his brother's side. How could Charlie not see him? Don saw that his brother's eyes were open. What was wrong?

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Donny! Where are you?! Help! Save me, please!" Charlie's voice was near hysterical, and suddenly he hugged himself and rocked in place.

Don recognized that his brother was still in his nightmare and he hated the tone of Charlie's voice. He had never heard such panic and fear.

"Charlie, I'm here. I'm right here, Buddy." Don got in his brother's face, trying to get Charlie to see.

Though Don was directly in his brother's face, Charlie couldn't see his brother. He continued to cry for him, screaming for his brother to rescue him. Tears began to rush down his face, and he couldn't stop them. The fear was all consuming.

"I'm here, Buddy. Look at me." Don framed Charlie's face with his hands. Charlie managed to stop screaming as he felt the touch, but still didn't see his brother's face.

"D-Don?" Charlie called, softer now. The touch was soft, friendly, and somewhat familiar.

"It's me. It's Don. I'm right here. Look at me." Don stroked Charlie's cheeks with his thumbs, trying to soothe his brother. He brushed at the tears, wiping them away with his fingers.

Don took his brother's hands and placed them against his face, trying to get his brother to recognize him. As if blind, Charlie used his hands to see his brother's face. His hands traveled Don's face, searching every area.

"Donny?" Charlie simply asked, finally recognizing Don's presence.

"Yeah, Buddy. It's Donny. I'm right here."

Sighing with relief, Charlie launched himself into his brother's arms. He latched on, refusing to let go.

"I knew you'd find me," Charlie breathed, still in the world of his dreams.

"I'm right here. I'll always find you, Buddy," Don replied, playing along.

Don held his brother tightly, as worry crept up his spine. Did something happen to his brother while he was away? Or was this just a nightmare that Charlie created in his head? Don didn't know for sure, but he had a bad feeling that something similar had happened to Charlie while he was away, and he was determined to figure it out.

**Here you go! I hope you like this chapter. I tried to give you a little more to go off of. I hope that helped. Keep reading, I'll keep writing!**


	3. Shut Up and Panic

**Just so you know, I will be giving warnings before I write a too graphic or scary scene. Also, I would like to thank the Queen of Whumperville herself, FraidyCat. She has been helping me through this story and information on the NSA side of the story. She is amazing like that, and is so generous to be helping. Enjoy the chapter. Nothing too scary yet. But there will be...**

Don stared at his brother openly over lunch. Charlie was picking at his food, his jacket-covered forearms resting on his desk lazily. As he bent his head, Don took the time to study him, look for some sign of strain. Either his brother was a good actor, or Don was just paranoid. He kept his eyes on his brother's face, hoping to see something that would give him a clue.

Charlie cleared his throat. He had felt his brother's eyes on him, and it was starting to bother him. "So, what all happened while I was gone?"

Don blinked, breaking out of his thoughts. "We had a few rough cases, but nothing we couldn't handle. What about you?"

Charlie looked down at his turkey melt sandwich. He couldn't tell his brother much, and what he could, he didn't want to.

"That's all I'm going to get?" Don asked, a smirk on his face.

Charlie raised his head. "Don, it's not like I don't want to tell you... It's just I can't."

Don leaned forward, his arms folded on the table. "Charlie, you know me. I know your security clearance is higher than mine, but how could you not trust me? Why would I tell anyone? _Who_ would I tell?"

"Don't turn this around. If I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone. It has nothing to do with trust."

"You come back and you're bothered by everything! What about your reaction to my hand? You're fighting panic attacks again, aren't you?"

"That's none of your business," Charlie half growled.

"Yes, Charlie, it is! You're my brother, damn it! And what's with all the long sleeves? It's 90 degrees out there!" Don reached across the table and seized one of Charlie's arms.

"Let go of me!" With more strength than Don knew his brother had, Charlie pulled his arm back so hard he bumped into the wall behind him. A moan escaped his lips as his back hit the wall, but he tried to mask it.

Don took a deep breath. He saw his brother's pain, and knew he had pushed too hard. He tried to calm himself, knowing Charlie didn't respond well to anger.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just... you've been acting strange since you got back. If something happened to you, I want to know about it."

Charlie rubbed his arm where Don had grabbed it, though it didn't really hurt. "I'm not as weak as everyone thinks. I'm fine, Don. Nothing happened."

Don didn't have to be an FBI agent to know his brother was lying. His chest automatically tightened at the idea of his brother getting hurt or getting in some sort of trouble. As an older brother, he wanted to keep his brother from all harm, and if he couldn't protect him from it, he felt guilty. Charlie seemed adamant about not talking about his NSA assignment. Don feared that Charlie wouldn't talk, and that would be more of a problem for Charlie than for Don.

"Did I hurt you?" Don asked guiltily.

Charlie huffed a sigh. "It's fine."

Don sighed as well. "I worry about you, you know? Forgive me if I want to know what happened to you so I can beat the living hell out of who did it."

"I'm fine, Don. It's over. I can take care of myself."

Don took that to be as much of an admission as anything. Would Charlie actually admit that he'd gotten hurt? And if so, in what way? Don wanted details, but Charlie wasn't breaking.

"Look, when you want to talk, you know where to find me." Don turned and stormed out. He wanted to force the information from his brother, but he knew pushing wouldn't help him any. He could feel the anger pulse through his veins. Don wanted to fight, to push, but a rational side of him told him he couldn't. So he left, before he did something he would regret.

--

Charlie stared at his brother's back as Don charged down the hallway, leaving his office. He looked down at his sleeves and pulled them farther down his arms. He wanted to hide the markings underneath. He didn't want anyone to notice, to see them. But then Don had caught on. He knew he was hiding. Charlie hated that about his brother. Don could look at him and know what he was thinking. Charlie wished he could do the same with his brother. Don was usually a closed book.

Charlie sank down into his chair and blew out his breath in a long sigh. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingers, working away the headache pounding his forehead. Rolling his head, he heard his neck crack.

"You okay, Charlie?" Amita asked as she stood in front of Charlie's desk.

Charlie jumped, unaware that she had even walked through the door. "Amita! You scared me."

Amita smiled softly. "I noticed. Seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just have a headache." Charlie turned his back to her as he approached one of his boards.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out to lunch."

"I just ate. Don brought something."

"Oh, okay." Amita's smile left her face. "Well, I'll let you get back to work then."

She walked up to the door, then stopped. "Charlie?"

Charlie looked up at her.

"If you ever need to talk or anything, I'm here."

Charlie gave her a smile. "Thank you."

Amita's smile returned, then she walked off.

As Charlie started writing on one of his chalkboards, he began to wonder when his acting skills wore off. Even Amita was noticing his change in behavior. Maybe he should spend more time focusing on other things. That's what was recommended. He could bury himself in the numbers. That would ward off the memories for sure.

--

Alan walked into the house after stopping at the grocery store. When he stepped into the kitchen, he found a note from his youngest son, saying he'd be in the garage if he needed him. Alan shook his head. Charlie spent the majority of his time in the garage. He wondered why that was supposed to be a surprise to him.

As he prepared the night's supper, Alan heard the front door open.

"Anybody home?" Don called.

"In here!" Alan yelled back as he placed the lasagna in the oven. Turning from his stoop, he found Don walking through the door. Instant concern grabbed him when he saw Don's face.

"You okay? You look beat."

"I'm fine, Dad." Don managed a smile for his father, trying to ease his worry. "Where's Charlie?"

"The garage. Where else?" Alan laughed.

"Didn't need to ask, did I?" Don asked as he got into the fridge for a beer. He took off the cap and sat at the kitchen table.

Again, Alan felt concern as he saw the worry lines on his son's forehead. He walked over to Don and placed a loving hand on his son's forehead.

"Dad," Don whined as he swatted at Alan's hand.

"You don't look good, Donny. Do you feel okay?"

"It's fine, Dad. I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I don't know. I wasn't tired. Whatever."

Alan frowned in concern. "Has it been happening often?"

"No, Dad! Let it go." Don stood from the table, and away from his father's watchful eye. "I'm going to go see Charlie."

"Okay," Alan responded, but Don was already out the door.

Don walked over to the garage and opened the door. Frowning, he searched the room with his eyes, wondering why he didn't see his brother. He finally found Charlie curled up in a ball on the couch. Again, Don noticed how Charlie slept with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. Something stirred inside Don as he looked at his brother. Charlie's face was scrunched up, as though in pain. He couldn't be comfortable. That couch was about as old as Charlie.

"Hey, Buddy. You want to go somewhere more comfortable?" Don asked as he shook Charlie's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Charlie whimpered, pushing at Don's hand.

At first Don thought it was because of what happened earlier that day, but soon he found it was much more than that.

"Come on, Buddy. Wake up." Don shook again, gently.

"Stop!"

Don immediately jumped back, afraid he'd hurt Charlie.

"Don't touch me! Just leave me alone!"

Charlie shot up off the couch, his arms still wrapped around his waist. Blindly, he rushed past Don, moving to a corner of the room behind an old desk.

"Charlie, what's going on?" Don asked as he approached his brother.

"Go away. Please!" Charlie practically begged.

"I can't do that, Buddy. Talk to me."

Don stepped closer and Charlie pushed into the desk, trying to get as far away as possible. He scrambled with his feet to push himself farther away, but it wasn't working. Don finally knelt in front of him, and Charlie's tear-filled eyes cut through Don.

"Please. Don't hurt me. Please." Charlie whimpered in fear, and pressed his face into the desk, hiding from the attacks he expected to come.

"Charlie, I would never hurt you." Don's heart beat faster, and he felt his throat clog. He had never seen such fear on his brother's face, and he never wanted to be the cause of it.

"Don't hit me, please. Please, please, please."

"Charlie, look at me." Don reached out and touched Charlie's shoulder. Charlie screamed in reaction and started fighting.

"Charlie, stop it!" Don shouted when Charlie started slapping and scratching at Don. Don took a few blows before he managed to grab his brother's wrists, and hold them steady.

"Oh, God. Don't hurt me, please. I'm sorry. Don't hit me." Charlie's breathing picked up, and sweat broke out on his forehead. He doubled over, wanting to hold his stomach as nausea took over.

"Charlie, look at me." Don started getting worried as he noticed his brother was showing signs of a panic attack.

Charlie's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. It was going way too fast, but he didn't know how to slow it. His chest tightened, and his stomach rolled. Images flashed in his head of his time spent away from home, and he couldn't stop them. Fearfully, he breathed fast and irregularly.

"What's going on?" Alan asked as he went out into the garage.

"Dad, get a paper bag!"

Reacting on instinct, Alan turned and ran from the garage. Opening one of the first drawers in the kitchen, he pulled out a paper bag that he kept just for Charlie.

Charlie was shaking his head back and forth when Alan returned with the bag. Don snatched it from his father, and tried to press it to Charlie's face.

"No! No!" Charlie cried, without looking at Don. He was trembling all over, and he could barely breathe.

"Charlie, look at me!" Don shouted as he framed Charlie's face with his hands. Charlie tried to shake Don's hands off, but he held on.

"Look at me." Don brought their faces together. He pressed his forehead to Charlie's and kept his eyes on Charlie's. As Charlie realized he couldn't move his head, he looked up to find out why. He found his brother's eyes on his, and he broke out of his daze.

"Don."

Don slowly leaned back. "I'm here."

"Don." Reaching out, Charlie grabbed Don's shirt sleeve in a tight grasp. "Don! I.. can't. I don't... I can't..." Charlie's voice was filled with panic as he realized he couldn't breathe.

Don returned the paper bag to Charlie's face. "Just breathe through this, Buddy."

Charlie's wide eyes stared at his brother while he breathed into the bag. Slowly, his breathing calmed. Don rubbed Charlie's arm, and Alan sat beside Charlie and kept a supportive hand on Charlie's back.

Shivering as though cold, Charlie took the bag away from his face. Feeling exhausted, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

"Charlie?" Don said his brother's name softly. Charlie lowered his head, eyes still closed. After taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and faced his big brother's gentle, concerned face.

"Are you all right, Buddy?" Don asked, his eyes showing his concern.

Charlie was silently thankful Don didn't ask him what had just happened. Charlie wasn't even sure himself. He just remembered the dream, more reality than a nightmare. Then he woke up, and he was on the floor facing Don.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry to worry you," Charlie said, looking at both his father and his brother.

"It's okay, Charlie." Alan smiled comfortingly as he rubbed Charlie's back with a warm hand.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie reached out to stand. He was barely standing when he spun dizzily toward the desk and had to catch himself with it. His legs shook, and it took him a moment to straighten again.

"Come on, Buddy. Let me help you inside." Don moved over to his brother's side.

"The lasagna!" Alan suddenly gasped and ran past them.

Don chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Charlie's waist. Charlie leaned heavily against Don's side, and they took slow steps inside. Don led Charlie to the kitchen table.

Charlie sank into his chair heavily. He continued to take deep breaths.

"Here. Let me get you some water." Don moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he placed it in front of Charlie. Don sat down beside his brother and picked up his beer he'd left earlier.

"I'm fine," Charlie said quietly as Don continued to study him.

Leaning forward after a moment, Don looked his brother in the eyes. "No, Charlie. You're not fine. And I'd bet you haven't been fine for a while."

Alan looked over at his sons from the oven. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but their body language spoke enough.

Charlie stared into his brother's eyes, and felt his own fill with tears. He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't admit it either.

"I think I'm going to go take a shower," Charlie said louder as he stood and left the kitchen. He could hear his father's protest about it being almost time for dinner, but he ignored him. Walking upstairs, he went to his bathroom, closed the door, and sank to the floor. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Charlie lowered his face to his knees.

There, Charlie truly cried for the first time about what happened to him. As his tears fell down his face, he unbuttoned his shirt and studied the ugly scars on his arms. Turning around, he could see the still-bruised areas on his back, and the healing cuts. using the mirror He didn't even want to look at the ones elsewhere, so he turned his back to the mirror as he took off the rest of his clothes. Standing under the shower, Charlie let his own tears mix with the water from his shower as the gut-wrenching sobs took over, and consumed him.


	4. Scars And Memories

**Hey, guys! This chapter is going to be short, as are the others from here on out. School has started, so I am going to be busy for a while now. I will try to post regularly, but the chapters will be shorter. If I can get more in, I will try. I'll probably get the most writing in on weekends, so Monday or Tuesday I will try to update. That won't always be the case. Thanks for your patience. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. The feedback has been wonderful!**

Don wanted answers. And he wanted them _now. _Charlie had spent far too long playing his little game. Don could see a lie, but Charlie wasn't really lying anymore. He wouldn't deny something had happened to him. Every time Don tried to ask, Charlie just brushed it off, and told him to forget about it. But Don couldn't forget, not when his brother was concerned.

Charlie was spending his time in the garage when Don came over. Alan was playing golf with a few friends, so they were alone. As the door opened, Charlie looked up and saw his brother there.

"Hey, Don," Charlie started to say, but then he saw Don's face. It was obvious his brother was mad about something, so Charlie didn't try to lighten the mood.

Don stalked up to Charlie and stood in front of his brother. He folded his arms, and looked at Charlie with anger in his eyes.

"What are you doing, Don?" Charlie asked, resigned. He was tired. He'd been home for weeks. He was tired of this game, but he couldn't simply tell his brother what had happened. No, Don did not need to hear about that. It was hard enough for Charlie to know what had happened, and to still remember it.

"I want answers, Charlie. I'm tired of this stupid game! Tell me what happened!" Don lurched aggressively toward Charlie, and he flinched away from his older brother. Reaching out, Don grabbed Charlie's wrist in a tight grasp.

"Ouch!" Charlie screamed, scared and hurt.

Don reached down and ripped Charlie's sleeve. He pulled it back with one hand, while holding it steady in the other. Charlie tried to pull away, and when he knew Don wouldn't give up, he closed his eyes and looked away. He didn't want to see the look on Don's face when he saw the scars underneath.

Don's fingers dug into his brother's skin as the sleeve pulled away. He looked from his brother's face to the arm in his hand. Charlie was turned away, so he looked at the arm, and it was if someone punched him in the stomach.

Don stared with his mouth open at the circular burns on Charlie's arm. He recognized the burns as those from cigarettes, used as torture. They ran up and down Charlie's arm, showing how many times it had happened. The air left Don's lungs in a rush, and his hands fell limply at his sides.

Charlie pulled his arm away when Don's grip loosened. He watched Don stare at him with wide eyes. He could see the horror in his face, and how he tried to deny it. As the realization kicked in, Don stumbled backwards, and fell to the floor.

Worried, Charlie rushed to Don's side. He helped prop his older brother up, and sat rubbing his back, while Don regained control.

Raising a shaking hand, Don pointed at Charlie's arm, in shock. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He covered his mouth with his hand as he stared with horror at his brother. He couldn't comprehend what had happened. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't accept it. There was no way that had ever happened to Charlie. Right?

Charlie watched the color drain from Don's face, watched his brother's eyes fix on his arm. Self consciously, Charlie tugged at the sleeve Don ripped, trying to hide the scars. But it was too late. Don had seen, and there was no turning back now.

Don finally found his voice... and his anger.

Rushing up, Don stood to his feet. Charlie, left on the floor, looked up at him.

"What the hell happen? Who did this to you?" Don screamed angrily as he began to pace back and forth.

Charlie slowly stood up, and faced his older brother's anger head on.

"What did the NSA have you do? They're supposed to protect you! You're not an agent! What the hell could they have made you do? What bastards did this to you?" Don screamed in Charlie's face. His throat clogged, and his heart beat fast. He couldn't deny his anger, but there was fear there as well.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Don demanded.

"What would you have done, Don? It's not like you had the clearance to work on it!"

"You didn't tell me anything! You could have told me what happened! I would have come to you!"

"You weren't allowed! Don, this is my work, not yours. I think I've spent enough time helping you that I should be allowed to have time to myself and my own work!"

"You were tortured! That's something you should share!"

Charlie gasped as the word came back, bringing with it more memories than he cared to remember. He stumbled, bumping into the desk behind him.

"Charlie?" Don's anger went away, and he stared at his brother. Charlie suddenly closed his eyes and held both sides of his head, as those blocking out a noise. He shook his head back and forth, and a low moan started and grew louder, and louder.

"Charlie!" Don rushed up to Charlie's side. He took hold of his brother's shoulders while Charlie began to rock.

Charlie could feel the cigarettes burn his arms, could feel the boiling hot water as it hit his legs and feet. He could remember the fear of the unknown as he was blindfolded and beaten. As if they were all rekindled,Charlie could feel the pain all over again.

"Charlie, look at me, Buddy." Don grasped Charlie's shoulders gently, but with enough firmness to get his attention.

The moan turned into a cry, and Don was scared to see tears falling onto Charlie's lap. Don touched Charlie's leg as he kneeled in front of his brother, and Charlie howled with pain. Don took his hand away immediately.

While Charlie rocked and cried, Don took the opportunity to hold Charlie's arm. He laid it gently in his hand, and only got a whimper in response from Charlie. He studied the cigarette burns, counted more than ten along the skin. When Don lightly touched one, Charlie pulled his arm back.

Standing, Don stood in front of Charlie. He took his brother's face in his hands and held it tightly. Holding his face there, Don leaned close to Charlie.

"Buddy, look at me," Don ordered, and slowly Charlie's eyes looked up.

Charlie's tear filled eyes found his brother, and he visibly shook. He grabbed fistfuls of Don's shirt and pulled his older brother to him.

"I'm sorry," Charlie whispered as he wrapped his arms around Don's back.

"It's okay, Buddy." Don embraced his brother fully, holding him tightly.

Charlie closed his eyes and leaned his head against Don's shoulder. After a moment, he pushed back and wiped at his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he met Don's eyes.

"Okay... I'll tell you."

**I am SO sorry this is all I can give you right now. I know it's been a while since I've updated, and I hated to make you wait too long. I will try to add more this weekend, but it's all up in the air. Thanks for your patience. You'll have to get used to this now. I'm sorry!**


	5. What You Didn't Know, What I Won't Tell

**FYI, this chapter does contain some torturing scenes, so that can be considered scary. I'm not sure how dark I'm going to get yet, but they're will be more after this chapter. Enjoy!**

"Don, you have to understand I can't tell you about this case," Charlie started. There was no way his brother was going to get more out of him. He couldn't let that happen. But what would it hurt if he told Don what had happened to him?

"I understand," Don said, letting it go for now. There was no way he'd let Charlie off the hook forever, but he had to let Charlie take things at his own pace.

"It happened almost two months into the case. They told me I was gone a week, but I swore it had been months," Charlie started, and the memories consumed him.

_Two months ago_

_Charlie had been making contact with the main suspect, Jose Romero. He was acting undercover for the NSA. However, in that time, something went horribly wrong. Jose took Charlie as a hostage during one night._

_Charlie was sleeping peacefully in bed when suddenly a hand grasped his neck. He tried to fight, as his air supply was cut off. Before he could be freed, he was kneed in the stomach, and he doubled over as the air left him. His attacker took out what looked like a black pillow case and put it over Charlie's head. The man tied the bottom of the case around Charlie's neck, to be sure it wouldn't be taken off. Charlie screamed, but the sound was muffled, and soon he was hit upside his head so hard he blacked out._

_By the time Charlie came back around, his wrists were bound together, and he recognized the movement of a car. He didn't know where they were taking him, and he didn't care to. It was hard to breathe in the dark cloth, and he couldn't see anything but darkness. Always claustrophobic, the case made him feel enclosed and trapped, and that scared him._

_"No one will ever find you, professor, not where we're going."_

_Charlie recognized Jose's voice, and he shivered. He knew what the man was capable of, had seen the man's plans for Los Angeles. He was a torturous man, who enjoyed inflicting pain on others. That's why Charlie had been trying to stop him for so long._

_"Please, let me go," Charlie whined, feeling guilty for giving in so soon. Don would have wanted him to be strong, fight him all the way. But this was different. Charlie knew the stakes, and knew he was likely to be killed. What was the point in acting strong?_

_"Let you go? We haven't even gotten started."_

_Charlie somehow managed to fall asleep in the car. When they lurched to a stop, Jose dragged him out of the car and after walking for about ten minutes, Charlie was thrown, and fell down what he assumed was a flight of stairs. He could feel with his hands that he lay on a dirt floor, and wondered where he was. Feeling blind, he listened so he could see Jose._

_However, he wasn't prepared for Jose's swift blow to his ribs. Charlie fell over from his sitting position, and found a hard, cement wall with his head. Grunting, he leaned his back against it._

_"Are you going to do this willingly or am I going to have to have fun with you?" Jose asked._

_"What do you mean?"_

_Jose chuckled. "Don't play dumb with me, Charlie. I know you're working for the NSA, working against me. Tell me what they know about me, and I'll let you go."_

_Charlie gritted his teeth. "I'm not telling you anything."_

_"Oh, good. I get to have fun with you, then. We'll test how long you can stand my methods."_

_Charlie kept his teeth gritted, determined not to speak a word. He could hear Jose doing something, but wasn't sure what. Another man entered the room, and spoke in Spanish to Jose. Charlie didn't understand enough of the language to know what they said._

_"It's such a shame to waste these on you, but this is where we shall start."_

_Charlie heard what sounded like the lighting of matches. He pressed as far into the wall as he could, but someone lifted him and tied him to a chair. He was unable to move, and his arms were stretched out and tied. Before he knew it was coming, Jose pressed a lit cigarette into his skin, then the other man pressed one into his other arm._

_"You ready to talk?" Jose asked over Charlie's cries. He kept the cigarette there so long the smell of burnt flesh reached their noses. Each man smiled as the professor squirmed._

_Finally, they released the cigarettes from Charlie's arms. Charlie gasped each breath, the pain overwhelming._

_"Ready yet?"_

_Charlie managed to close his mouth against the pain, and breathed deeply through his nose._

_"Fine." Jose repeated the action, this time in the same burned area, and Charlie screamed. The two repeated the action multiple times until Charlie's arm was a red, dotted mess. His eyes were full of tears, and he tasted blood in his mouth, from where he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming... or talking._

_Finally, they stopped for the day. Charlie managed to fall asleep, lying on his back. He couldn't turn on his sides, or he would feel pressure on his burned arms. It seemed like he slept a day, but it was barely a couple of hours. What seemed like a long time passed before anyone returned, and Charlie was scared by that. What if they had abandoned him? What if he was left there to die? No one would ever find him. Don and Alan would never know what happened to him. He'd never see them again, never get rescued. How could they have just left him?_

_But then a man came into the room. Charlie could hear his footsteps as he approached, and he instinctively moved toward the opposite wall. He tried to stay away from the man, but he was cornered and blinded by the case around his head._

_"You know what this is, don't you?" the man asked in a heavy Spanish accent. Charlie then felt cold metal touch his skin, something he could only identify as a gun._

_Charlie whimpered as the man pressed it harder into his skin, and he started shaking. He expected pain any second, he expected to be dead in minutes._

_"Answer me!" the man shouted, then fired off a round. Charlie jumped at the sound, and expected to feel some sort of pain. Miraculously, he had not been shot._

_"It's a gun," Charlie answered weakly._

_"Yeah, it is. You know what I'm going to do with it?"_

_Charlie shook his head, though he had some ideas._

_"I'm going to kill you. You won't know when, but it's coming. Let's see... where shall I do it?"_

_The man moved the gun so that it pressed into Charlie's forehead through the cloth of the pillow case. Charlie started sweating, and he closed his eyes, praying._

_"Maybe here." The man shoved the gun into Charlie's chest, right by his heart. the heart that now started beating rapidly._

_"Or right in the gut." The gun was pressed so hard in Charlie's stomach that he lost his breath._

_"Yeah, professor, I could do it anywhere I want. I think I'd like to do it right here." The gun touched Charlie's right temple. "You know why? 'Cause I'd love to see that big old brain of yours splattered all over the floor." Then the man laughed so evilly, Charlie thought for sure he was a villain from a movie._

_Charlie couldn't contain a whimper, making the man laugh more and more. He moved the gun all across Charlie's body, trailing paths from one side to another, touching everywhere._

_WIthout warning, the man raised the gun and fired off six shots. Each time, Charlie's body jerked with fear, and he curled into himself in the fetal position. He covered his head with his hands and arms as he trembled._

_Again, the man's laughter rang out. "Just you wait, professor. You and me are going to have some fun."_

_Charlie stayed like that on the floor. The shots left him momentarily deafened, so he couldn't tell when the man left, or if he did. So he laid on the floor, curled into a tight ball, and cried. He expected the shot that would end his life at any moment, and he would give a harsh jerk every few minutes involuntarily. Charlie flinched at every sound, expecting to hear the gun raised, the man's laughter, and then it would all be over as the final shot rang out._

_But nothing ever came. He cried himself to sleep, too afraid to move even after he woke up. It wasn't until Jose returned that he changed positions, and that was not welcomed either._

"Stop!" Don screamed at his brother. He had suddenly lost Charlie, it seemed, to the memories. His brother sat frozen on the chair he sat on, staring into space. It was as if he was watching a movie screen, and all the events caught up to him. While Don hated hearing this story, he knew his brother was dealing a lot worse.

With Don's scream, Charlie snapped out of it. Remembering all these details hurt him so bad. He liked it better the way the NSA therapist had told him. Don't remember. Don't talk about it. Push it away. Forget it ever happened. Charlie liked that, because then he didn't have to relive it.

Charlie stood quickly, ignoring his concerned brother kneeling next to him. "I'm sorry. I... I can't do this. I can't."

Charlie suddenly sobbed and bolted out the door, leaving Don behind. Don watched his younger brother leave, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He never wanted to hurt his brother by making him go through it again. But, little by little, Charlie was going to have to retell the story, whether he wanted to or not.

--

Safely in his room, Charlie fell atop his bed, and buried his face in his pillow. He had hardly told his brother anything yet. There was still so much more. How was he going to ever tell Don, when he couldn't even make it through the better parts? He hadn't even mentioned the part where Don got involved. How the hell was he supposed to tell Don he had thought he was dead? There was no way Charlie was going to make it through this. He couldn't. Don was just going to have to give him his space, and forget about the whole thing. That's what Charlie was doing, and so far, he thought he was doing a good job of it. There was nothing more to say. He had been tortured. He had told Don that much, told him how he'd been tortured, but that was it. No more. Enough was enough.

Charlie feared that if he tried to tell Don more, he'd get trapped back in that same spot, and he'd never be freed. This time, there would be no glorious rescue. He would not be so fortunate this time, and that, Charlie could not stand. He'd never survive a second time around. So he would keep his mouth shut. He'd been trained to "never say anything," and he would use it now.

If only Charlie had never said anything at all. Then he wouldn't have to deal with Don pushing him for more information. Then he could go on with his life, pretending he'd never been hurt, never been tortured, never been captured, and never had to feel the body of a dead man he believed was his beloved older brother.

**Ooh, did you like that? I hope that helped. I tried to make this a little longer than last time. I hope that made it better for you. As you can see, everything won't be coming out at once. I couldn't just lay it all out for you. That would take away the mystery. There is still plenty more to come, and I will update as much as possible. Thanks for being so understanding, guys. I appreciate it!**


	6. Things Better Left Forgotten

Don held his head in his hands as he doubled over in his seat. It was hard for him to comprehend what his little brother had just told him. While Charlie managed to keep the details vague, Don had heard enough to know it made him sick, knowing what had been done to his brother. Charlie did not react to pain lightly, and knowing what he'd been put through was disturbing enough.

Standing, Don knew he had to push his own fear and pain away, so he could take care of his brother. He could tell how retelling the story of his capture had affected Charlie. Don hoped he hadn't pushed too far with trying to figure out what happened to Charlie.

Climbing the stairs slowly, Don wondered how he'd find his brother. As he reached the top, he took the few steps to Charlie's room and knocked. Charlie didn't respond, so he opened the door and peered inside.

Charlie was curled into a ball on his bed. His tears were gone, but the fear remained. His eyes fixed onto a spot on the wall, and it became the TV screen. Flash after flash appeared of what he'd been put through, things better left forgotten. He could see the men who'd beaten him, hear their laughter as they enjoyed tormenting him in any way possible. He could remember the instant his hand touched cold flesh, how he'd been sick for hours after. He remembered the feeling of hunger that settled in his stomach, and stayed there for days, days he thought were weeks. It had been the worst experiences he'd ever felt, and talking about them had just taken him back, back where he never wanted to be again.

Don sat beside his brother, and couldn't help noticing the rigidity of Charlie's form, and how his eyes locked on one spot and never wavered. His breathing was labored, and terror filled his eyes. Don hated seeing his brother looking so frightened, and wondered when Charlie stopped feeling safe around him.

"Buddy, it's okay. You're home now. No one is ever going to hurt you like that again, understand?" Don spoke gently, but with confidence, to show his brother he was serious.

Charlie gripped the blanket in front of him in his hands tightly. He methodically clenched and unclenched his hands around it as he stared at the wall. He didn't know his brother was there. How could he? He was back in El Salvador.

"Charlie?" Don asked when his brother wouldn't respond. He reached out and touched Charlie, and his brother's eyes closed tightly.

The touch was there again. It was as if that was the introduction to every torture. He closed his eyes instinctively, though he was still blindfolded. He gritted his teeth, preparing for the pain that should be coming any second. He couldn't stop a whimper from escaping his lips.

"Charlie? Talk to me, Buddy." Don got off the bed and sat in front of Charlie. He watched his brother's face, saw the pain there, saw how he was gritting his teeth, as though Don were going to hurt him. Don stroked the side of his brother's face with his hand, trying to ease the tension.

Charlie found it odd. The touch had never been gentle, yet this one was. He wondered if this was some new form of torture that he didn't know about. He found his strength, and backed up.

"Charlie, come on!" Don said loudly, trying to get his brother's attention. Charlie backed away from him, scaring Don.

"Stop it!" Don shouted.

Charlie couldn't stand the shouting. He hadn't done anything wrong. He wouldn't talk, that's all. He wouldn't tell them why he was there and what the NSA knew. Too terrified, Charlie continued to back up.

"Stop!" Don shouted one more time as he tried to round the bed quickly. He wasn't fast enough, though. Charlie fell off the bed, and hit the hardwood floor with a loud bang. Don quickly knelt beside his brother, too scared to touch him.

Pain erupted in the back of Charlie's head and his back. Unprepared for the pain, his eyes shot open, and he realized he was in his room, recognizing the ceiling he stared at so often.

"Charlie! My god, Buddy, are you okay?" Don asked as he saw Charlie's eyes open.

Groaning, Charlie turned on his side a moment before he sat up and touched the back of his head. He could feel a definite knot starting, and the spot smarted. He rubbed the spot, wincing.

"Charlie, are you okay?" Don watched his brother carefully.

Charlie jumped a little, surprised Don was with him. He looked at his brother, realizing Don had seen it all. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Let me see," Don said as he moved to Charlie's back. He pulled his brother's hair aside and found the knot on Charlie's head. It wasn't bleeding, so he wasn't too concerned.

"Come on, Buddy, we'll get an ice pack for that." Don took Charlie's arm and pulled his little brother up to stand beside him. Charlie suddenly gasped with pain.

"Charlie?" Don asked, concerned. He watched his brother close his eyes, and touch his side gingerly. Reaching out, Don lifted his brother's shirt, and flinched back when Charlie quickly slapped his hand away, before Don could see anything.

"I'm fine." Charlie's clipped words told Don that he was anything but.

"Do we need to go to the hospital?" Don asked, straightforward.

"No. Let's get that ice pack."

Don watched Charlie walk past him, saw him grit his teeth as he walked. Still, Don followed without a word about it.

Charlie pulled out an ice pack kept in the freezer, then brought it with him while he sat on the couch. He held the ice pack against his head, instantly chilled at the cold.

"Charlie?" Don sat across from his brother. He wondered if he would talk to him anymore, but Don knew Charlie had something else he had to tell him.

"What?" Charlie asked, impatient.

"Did you... did you ever talk to anyone about this? Like a professional?"

Charlie's jaw tightened. He swallowed hard, avoiding his brother's eyes. "Yes. The NSA provided someone."

Don nodded. "Do you think it helped?"

"Yes." Charlie wondered what his brother was getting at. "Why?"

"No reason." Don shrugged, though he had a reason definitely in mind.

Don stood and stretched, then held his hand out for his brother. "Come on. Let's get some pizza."

--

"Where are we going?" Charlie asked. It had been five days since he had told his brother about some of what he'd been put through. Don hadn't pushed him for anything else. Now, Don had practically forced him into the car, giving no clue as to where they were going.

"Just trust me, Charlie."

Charlie did trust his brother, but as they neared their destination, Charlie realized where they were.

"Don?" Charlie asked, fear in his voice.

"It's okay, Buddy. He can help."

Moaning, Charlie leaned his head against the front seat window. He didn't want to be here. He had been through this all once before. Why did he have to again?

"Come on, Buddy. It'll be okay. I promise," Don said after he parked and rounded the car to Charlie's side.

Head hanging low, Charlie got out of the car and followed his brother. They took the elevator to sixth floor, and then exited.

"Is Dr. Bradford in?" Don asked the lady behind the desk. When she nodded, Don walked on back to the doctor's office. He had set up an appointment the day after Charlie had told him about his tortures. As much as Don wanted to be the only one to help his brother, he knew that Dr. Bradford could do things he couldn't.

"Agent Eppes. It's good to see you." Dr. Bradford stood and shook Don's hand in a hearty grip, which Don returned with equal strength.

"Professor. How are you doing, sir?" Dr. Bradford asked of Charlie, and reached his hand out to him. Tentatively, Charlie took it and shook his hand quickly.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Dr. Bradfrod said, waving his hand toward his chairs. Charlie sat on the couch, and Don joined him on the other side.

"So, Charlie, Don tells me you've been put through some rough times lately."

Charlie shot a quick look at his brother, showing his anger and disgust.

Don held up his hands in defense. "I didn't give him any details, just like you haven't given me much."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yes. I was put through a lot. But it's okay now. I already saw another therapist."

"Oh? And what advice did he give you?"

Charlie swallowed against the lump in his throat, and shot a sideways glance at his older brother.

"Don, would you mind leaving?" Dr. Bradford asked, picking up on Charlie's discomfort.

"Fine," Don said, and the anger was clear in his voice. He'd do it for his brother, but he wanted to be let in.

"It's okay, Charlie. You can talk to me."

"He... he taught me ways to forget. He told me what to think to myself when the memories started coming back. He helped me forget."

"But you haven't forgotten, have you, Charlie?"

Charlie closed his eyes tightly. "No, no I haven't."

"Charlie, this is not the way therapists are supposed to act. They're not supposed to make you forget. We're supposed to help you face what you went through so you can deal with it later. You can't come to terms with what happened to you if you simply ignore it. If you continue to do that, the memories are just going to keep coming back to haunt you. Is that what you want, Charlie?"

"No." Charlie's heartbeat quickened. He wanted to forget, but he didn't want to face what happened to him. From what little he'd told Don, Charlie still had reacted with fear. How could he face everything again? The second time around would kill him.

"Charlie? It's okay. We'll get through this together. You don't have to be scared of your memories. That's all they are, memories. They're not going to happen again, just by you talking about them. Trust me, Charlie."

Charlie didn't believe him. Crying out, he slipped off the couch and onto the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest, and hugged them there. He lowered his head to his knees and rocked back and forth, repeating three words.

"Charlie?" Dr. Bradford stood quickly, concerned. He slowly lowered himself next to Charlie and tried to hear what the professor was saying.

"Just get through. Just get through. Just get through. Just get through. Just get through. Just get through."

**Sorry it's been so long. School is getting busy already. OMG! Have you guys seen the commercial for season five? OMG! I cannot WAIT! I am so proud of myself, too. I totally had the idea for a story that sounds exactly like what the first episode is going to be. I won't say what it is, for those of you who are a season behind or if you don't want spoilers. But, PLEASE, if any of you have spoilers, SHARE! I need spoilers! I live for spoilers! Thanks, guys!**


	7. Be Kind, Don't Remind

**The beginning is a flashback, with some scary themes. So, be warned.**

_Be kind, don't remind_

Finally, Dr. Bradford got Charlie calmed down and off the floor. The professor stayed on the couch, sitting silently. In turn, Dr. Bradford waited silently for Charlie to speak. Eventually, Charlie got up the courage to tell Dr. Bradford a little bit about what had happened, particularly about his last therapy.

_Two months ago_

"Where's Don?" It was the first thing Charlie had said since he'd been rescued three days ago. He had been in such a state of shock, and in such a bad state medically, that he had simply remained silent. If he was able to answer, he would gesture as best as he could.

"Charlie, your brother is fine. Jose never had him."

"He... he killed him. I felt his... his cold body." Charlie looked up with haunted eyes at Director Robert Thompkins.

"No. No, Charlie. Your brother is fine. I promise. I hired agents to take care of your family, make sure they were safe when you were captured. They're both fine. It was just you in there."

"Who was he?" Charlie asked after a long silence, trying to comprehend that his brother wasn't dead.

"One of Jose's men. We recognized him from one of his tapes. I'm so sorry you had to go through this, Charlie. I will do anything to make this right. It was never meant to happen that way."

Charlie knew that Bob wanted forgiven, for him to say that it was okay. But he knew it wasn't okay. It hadn't been for a while. It had gone too far this time.

"Bob... I am never, _ever, _going to work for the NSA again. Do you understand me?" Charlie met Bob's concerned eyes with sternness in his own. He would not budge on this. He wanted out, for good.

Bob thought a moment, considered what Charlie said. Then, he consented. Charlie was right.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie. I never meant for this. I understand your decision. Just know if you change your mind, I'll be here."

Charlie grabbed the pitcher of water left at his bedside and slammed it across the room, sending it crashing into the opposite wall.

"Change my mind? My brother could have been killed! I could have been killed! What makes you think I'd ever want to come back to work for you?" Charlie shouted angrily, showing the most emotion he had since his rescue.

Bob flinched as the pitcher crashed. He stood, bowing his head, resigned.

"Fine, Charlie. I understand. I'll be here if you need me. Don't forget Dr. Samson will be in to see you in the morning." When Charlie didn't respond, Bob left quietly, leaving Charlie to his pain and misery.

The next day, Dr. Samson, the NSA therapist, came in. Charlie had slept, but only when exhaustion set in. It reminded him of how he spent his days of capture. He was too scared to sleep, so exhaustion finally would take him. He was wide awake when Dr. Samson came.

For three weeks, Dr. Samson met with Charlie. He never got more than a few words out of him, and Charlie never told him everything that happened.

"Charlie, the only way you're going to get through this, is to forget about it Don't think about it. Don't remember. Pretend it never happened."

So Charlie blocked it out.

--

Dr. Bradford stared at Charlie. His anger was obvious by the look on his face as Charlie described his sessions with Dr. Samson. He had every intention of contacting the NSA, reminding them how therapists are supposed to treat.

Charlie watched Dr. Bradford, saw his reaction. He lowered his head as a sick feeling in his stomach grew. He knew it was his fault. He should never have told anyone. Charlie knew he should have just kept quiet, like Dr. Samson told him. He never meant to put his pain on anyone else. He'd already told too much to Don. He should have just refused to speak.

"Charlie."

Charlie kept his head down, ignoring Dr. Bradford's voice.

"Charlie... Charlie, look at me."

Finally, Charlie obeyed. His eyes barely met Dr. Bradford's as he looked up.

"Charlie, that is not how therapists are supposed to act, I promise you. By locking those thoughts inside, you can't move on. You have to face them, you have to talk about these things. It's the only way you'll recover."

Charlie stood quickly. "I... I don't want to face them. I don't want to talk about it. Don tricked me into coming here in the first place. I... I can't."

"It's okay. Just, sit down..."

"NO!" Charlie shouted, startling Dr. Bradford.

"I'm done. No more."

Charlie stormed out the door. He forgot that Don was still there, and walked right past him.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Chuck," Don said, quickly standing from outside Dr. Bradford's office. He jogged to catch up with Charlie.

"Don't call me Chuck!" Charlie snapped, angrier than usual.

"Hey, calm down."

"I don't need to calm down!" Charlie shouted again, walking faster, so Don had to jog again.

"Charlie, hold up." Don barely caught hold of Charlie's upper arm, and pulled him to a stop.

"Don't touch me! I'm done." Charlie shoved Don's chest, causing Don to let go. Charlie took his opportunity and ran.

Shaking his head, Don bit his lower lip. He sighed, and turned around and walked back to Dr. Bradford. He walked into his office, pushing through the door with more force than he needed.

"What did you do to him?" Don demanded.

"Nothing. I barely talked to him. He talked to me for a few minutes, then I tried to talk to him, and he left."

"What did you say?"

"You and I both know I can't tell you that." Dr. Bradford looked at Don pointedly.

"Don't give me your legality bull shit. If there's something wrong with my brother, I need to know about it."

"All right." Dr. Bradford stood a moment and closed the door. He turned back to Don. "I'm not going to tell you anything else, but Charlie did say he'd seen another therapist before me. I guess the NSA provided one for him. He was... well, mistreated."

"What do you mean? He hurt him? Gave him the wrong medication?"

"No, no, nothing like that. His therapist did not tell him how to deal with his emotions properly, and how to recover from his torture. I tried to tell him how his other therapist was wrong, but I think he preferred his incorrect methods."

"What else did he tell you?" Don eyed Dr. Bradford suspiciously.

"I've already told you more than I should have. You should go to your brother, make sure Charlie is all right."

"I guess you're right. I was his ride, so I don't know how he expects to get home."

"Charlie's a smart man. He can find a way to get home without you, Don, or go wherever else he'd want to."

"Thanks, Dr. Bradford." Don reached out and shook the doctor's hand with a firm, tight grip, which he was surprised was met with equal strength.

Taking off quickly, Don walked fast to his car. He looked back and forth, in search of his brother. He was about to give up, figuring Charlie went home without him, when he heard a fight breaking out.

He started to walk toward the sound, then broke into a jog, which quickly turned into a full run. As he neared, he recognized his brother's voice.

Running quickly, Don hurried to the front of the alley, and was surprised to find his brother punching someone else. He'd never seen his brother get so physical with another person. The man was startled as well, and struck Charlie back. Before Don could get to them, Charlie had punched and knocked the man to the ground. He got down on the ground beside the man, and proceeded to hit him over and over.

"Charlie!" Don expected to have to rescue his brother, but he saw how he needed to stop Charlie from hurting the other man more.

Don quickly ran up and grabbed his brother, who still swung his fists toward the man. Lifting him off the ground, Don pulled Charlie away.

"Charlie, stop it!" Don shouted, pinning Charlie against the alley wall. Charlie continued to struggle, and while Don tried to subdue him, the man Charlie had been hitting ran away.

"I can't go back there! I won't! You can't take me again!" Charlie fought blindly, batting, scratching, and punching the air in front of him, narrowly missing his brother.

"You're fine, Charlie. Calm down!"

"No! Let go of me! I won't go back! I won't let you hurt me again!" Choking out a strangled sob, Charlie started sliding down the wall, out of Don's grasp. Don followed his brother down, watching the fear and fight in Charlie's face. He kept his hold on Charlie's arms, keeping him back far enough that he wouldn't hit him.

Shaking all over, Charlie's eyes shone with tears as he tried to fight, wearing himself out with his struggle.

"CHARLIE!" Don screamed in his brother's face, and Charlie froze. Surprised, Don watched as his brother took in his surroundings, as though he hadn't known he was there.

"What happened, Buddy?" Don asked, calmer this time, as he let go of Charlie's arms.

Charlie's mouth opened, and his eyes shifted back and forth manically. "I, I, I... I don't know. I don't know."

Panting, Charlie looked down at his bloodied hand. "I... I didn't mean to hurt him."

Charlie looked around Don's shoulder, expecting to see the man there, wanting to apologize. He had not thrown the first punch, but he had reacted with a fierceness he didn't know. In the fight or flight reflex, fight had taken over with more power than Charlie knew he had.

Don watched his brother carefully, with deep concern.

"I couldn't... couldn't let him take me. I couldn't get pushed around. I'm so sick of being pushed around!" Charlie's breathing quickened, and he felt suffocated. He stood and stepped away from the wall, hating the feeling of being trapped against it. Don stood, standing close to his brother.

"Hey, no one's going to take you. Let's sit down. You're shaking like a leaf." Don put a hand on his brother's back, guiding him toward his car.

Charlie hadn't noticed he was shaking, and let his brother blindly lead him away. He felt Don push on his shoulders, and instinctively sat, trusting his brother. He stared down at his shaking hands, and, past them, he recognized the floor of Don's car.

"Tell me what happened." Don talked softly, trying not to scare his already spooked brother.

"No! I can't. I can't relive it." Charlie's voice was panicky as he looked up at his brother.

"No, no. I was talking about right now."

Sighing, Charlie looked back down at his hands. "Oh." He wrung his hand, spreading blood around a moment.

"Here." Don placed a napkin in Charlie's hands, pressing it against his bloody knuckles.

"Thanks."

Taking a deep breath, Charlie began. "I... I was just walking down the street. I was mad, so I wanted to get home on my own. So, I was going to call a cab. Then this guy suddenly grabbed me, wrapped his arm around my neck. He was trying to get my wallet, and he dragged me into that alley. I fought back, before he could get my wallet. When he tried again, I... I blacked out. I just went crazy. I knew I had to fight back. I couldn't let him hurt me. It was like I was back there again, when I was... captured, tortured."

Charlie shivered even now thinking about it. He never wanted to go back there again. That was why he couldn't talk to Dr. Bradford. He'd make him tell, make him relive it. And he blamed Don for putting him in that situation. Never again. He wasn't going to talk about it ever again. Dr. Samson had it right. It was Dr. Bradford who was misinformed.

"Sh, you're okay now, Buddy. Let's get you home, so we can get you fixed up, okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"No, no. I'm okay. I'm okay."

"All right. We'll just go home then, okay?"

Charlie nodded, and he titled his head up. Staring out the windshield, he kept his eyes focused on the road. Absently he held the napkin against his hand as they drove home.

When Don parked the car in their driveway, he rounded the car to help Charlie. He wasn't sure if his brother was hurt worse and just didn't know it yet, so he wanted to be around to support him. Charlie walked inside without difficulty, and Don directed him to the kitchen table.

"Wait here. I'll go get the first aid kit."

Charlie caught a look at his reflection against the microwave door, and he was surprised to see the dark ring around his right eye. He hadn't noticed it was there, and gently reached up and touched it. Not surprisingly, it hurt to touch. He checked himself over, found his lip had been bleeding without him knowing, and his neck was still sore from where the man had grabbed him. Other than that, he couldn't discern any other injuries.

"Here we go." Don returned with anything he'd found that he thought would help. He handed Charlie an ice pack for his eye, and a wet, soapy washcloth for his bleeding lip. He also brought gauze, which he used to wrap up Charlie's scraped knuckles.

"Thanks," Charlie said, smiling nervously.

"No problem, Buddy." Don stood and patted Charlie's head. He knelt down a little, moving Charlie's head back and forth to get a better look at his neck.

"Damn, Charlie. I should have beaten the hell out of that guy while I had the chance. Or at least let you finish the job." Don laughed, but he saw Charlie's face, and knew his brother didn't find the humor.

"Don't say that. I... I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"Charlie, it was either that, or you were going to get hurt worse. You made the right choice."

"That's not true. I could have run away. I could have called for help. I didn't even do that."

"Look, you did the right thing. I know you don't like hurting other people, but sometimes, you have to."

Charlie lowered his head, biting his lower lip. "I... I never want to put anyone through that. I don't want to be that person. I know what it feels like. It's not right. I... I never want to hurt people, like I was hurt."

Don laid a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Buddy, I don't think you'd ever do that to anyone. You don't have to worry about being like the people who hurt you. You're too good for that. It's not you, and that's a good thing. It's one of the things that makes me so proud of you."

Charlie managed a smile as he looked up at Don's face. "Really?"

"Really." Don smiled again and stood. He had barely taken two steps when Alan walked in, and he felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What happened?" Alan asked immediately, seeing Charlie's bandaged hand and the ice pack covering Charlie's eye.

"It's nothing, Dad. I'm okay."

"Let me see." Alan lifted the ice pack away from Charlie's eye and gasp.

"Did you two get in a fight?"

"No!" Don and Charlie responded at the same time.

"Well, then, what happened?"

Charlie explained what had happened, leaving out the reason for their visit into the city. Alan hovered over Charlie, trying to help in any way possible.

"Charlie, you're bleeding."

Charlie frowned, confused. Alan quickly lifted Charlie's left arm, which showed blood through the sleeve.

"It's nothing, Dad..." Charlie looked around his father to Don, looking desperate for his brother to stop him from seeing his arm.

"Dad, it's okay. Just a scrape." Don didn't know if that was true, but he could tell his brother didn't want Alan to know anything about his capture.

"What are you talking about?" Alan quickly rolled up the sleeve, and Charlie shut his eyes tightly.

With a similar reaction that Don had, Alan stared with his mouth hanging open, speechless.

"Wha... what happened?" The cut was barely a scraped, but the scars from Charlie's torture showed visibly. Alan stared at the cigarette burns, his heart beating fast.

Charlie closed his eyes, sick to his stomach. He looked at Don, who was watching him worriedly. Meeting his brother's gaze, Charlie pleaded with Don.

"I... I can't do it again. Please." Charlie pulled his arm back hard, and ran up the steps. He couldn't tell his father, couldn't watch his reaction. He had told too many people already. This was just making it worse. He was supposed to never say anything, but it was obvious that the truth was going to slip out piece by piece. He couldn't handle telling another loved one, though. Charlie didn't want to be the cause of that pain again.

Don watched Charlie run away, then turned back to his father.

"Dad..."

"What is it, Donny? What happened to Charlie? Who did that to my son?"

Don swallowed hard. "Dad... you're going to want to sit down for this."

**Thanks for the patience, guys. This past week was so hectic. I was too busy to post. I know it's been a long time, and I apologize. I figured I'd give it a little longer though, to be sure to make it worth the wait. This one is definitely longer than the ones I've been writing lately. I hope that helps. I hope the next update won't take as long. Wish me luck in school. It's hectic already! Thanks for the reviews. They really brighten my day.**


	8. Escape The Memories

**Note: Slight changes have been made thanks to FraidyCat for pointing out unrealistic points in the chapter. Thanks!**

"Dad... sit down." Don's throat felt clogged. He tried to strengthen his voice as he spoke to his father, knowing Alan would need some sort of strength.

Weakly, Alan sat down. His knees began to buckle, and he leaned heavily into the chair. All the while, he never took his eyes off his oldest son.

"What happened to Charlie?" Alan was barely able to voice his question, fearing what the answer would be.

Don slowly sat in the chair next to his father's. He reached out and laid his hand on his father's arm, trying to comfort.

"Something happened while Charlie was gone."

Alan shook, fearing what exactly had happened. He couldn't speak, couldn't respond, so he simply sat, waiting.

"Charlie... Charlie got hurt. He... well, he was... Charlie was..."

"Tortured." Alan finished his son's sentence, since it was obvious Don was uncomfortable saying it. He could see it on Don's face, obviously. When Don said Charlie got hurt, he could predict that that was what had happened. Seeing Don's face confirmed it.

"Oh, God... I always said he'd get hurt one of these times! This is why I didn't want him working for you!"

"He didn't get hurt working for me, Dad! It was the NSA, remember?"

"But _you_ brought him into this world! He never would have done that if it hadn't been for you! Your mother and I had everything laid out. Him working for the NSA or FBI was _never_ in our plans for him!"

"Dad, please! Like it or not, Charlie is an adult. If he ever wanted to stop, you know he could. You can't control everything he does anymore."

"Well, that much is obvious. I can't control it, but you sure as hell can!"

"Dad! Stop it!"

Alan's mouth shut immediately, as well as Don's. They both turned, seeing Charlie in the doorway to the kitchen. He was holding his left arm in his right hand, somehow clotting the bleeding beneath the sleeve. He stepped closer to them, but still kept some distance.

"No one told me to work for the NSA or the FBI. I chose to do it. You guys are my life, and you influence a lot of what I do. But if I didn't want to work for the FBI, I just wouldn't do it. No one can make me do it. If I had known something was going to happen, I probably would have gone still. I know that's hard for you to understand, but I can't help you understand."

"My poor boy." Alan stood quickly, physically drawn to his son, feeling like a magnet. He rushed up and hugged Charlie tightly, still worried about hurting him, though.

"Are you hurt? I'm so sorry, Charlie."

"It's okay, Dad." Charlie managed a teary smile. He looked around his father and over to Don.

"I'll help you fix your arm, okay, Buddy?" Don stood, taking the first aid kit from the table.

"I can get that," Alan ventured, wanting to make Charlie better anyway he could.

"It's okay, Dad. I'll get it. Sit back down."

Don put his hand gently on his brother's shoulder, leading him up the steps. Charlie went back to his room, still holding his arm.

"Let me see." Don held out his hand, waiting on Charlie to put is arm there. When he did, Don rolled up the sleeve gently and found the scrape underneath. It wasn't bad, but it was bleeding, and needed bandaged quickly. Don wiped it off with an alcohol swab, then taped a piece of gauze over the scrape.

"There you go, Buddy. You going to take it easy for a while? Need anything?"

"No, I'm good. I think I'll take a nap or something."

"Okay. Sleep well." Don stood and walked toward the door.

"Don." Charlie cleared his throat, trying to make his voice less fragile.

"Yeah, Buddy?" Don asked, and when he turned and saw Charlie's face, he felt his heart skip a beat. Charlie was looking up at him with such soulful, sad eyes. The emotions swirled in the chocolate irises, until it seemed they spelled out exactly how Charlie was feeling.

"Just forget it ever happened. Please, Don. Please." Charlie stared off to the side at Don, waiting for his brother's response. A lone tear slipped out of the corner of his eye and fell, trailing toward his ear.

"I can't do that, Charlie," Don replied, taking a step back toward his brother. He saw Charlie cringe, feeling his brother's hurt.

"Please, Donny. I need to forget, and I need everyone to forget. Pretend I never left. Please."

Charlie reached out and grabbed his brother's hand, squeezing tightly. Don's heart beat faster as he looked at his brother's face, so desperate and sad. Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he took another step closer to his brother.

"Okay, Buddy. You're all right."

Charlie closed his eyes, thankful.

Awkwardly, Don reached out and put his hand comfortingly on his brother's head. He brushed at Charlie's curls, remembering how their mother used to do that. Charlie's face relaxed, and he turned into Don's hand.

"I don't want to remember anymore," Charlie whispered sleepily.

"Sh. Just sleep," Don soothed, still brushing at Charlie's hair.

"I wish it'd never happened." Charlie's voice slowed, as sleep began to claim him.

"So do I, Buddy. Go to sleep. Sh," Don said softly.

Breathing easily, Charlie began to sleep.

"I'm so sorry, Buddy," Don whispered as Charlie fell asleep. He walked away, leaving Charlie alone to sleep.

--

Don finally convinced Charlie to go back to Dr. Bradford. Charlie stubbornly sat silently in his office, refusing to talk about what happened. Don had forced his way inside, and Charlie didn't want Don to hear anymore. He didn't want anyone to know more. Too much had gotten out already. Still, he allowed Don into the session, giving him permission to join him. Though he didn't want his brother to hear anymore, he still looked to his brother for support.

"Charlie, can you tell me all the injuries you sustained during your capture?"

Charlie laughed inwardly. All of them? He wasn't sure even he could count them. He looked nervously to Don. His brother would be furious if he knew what all had happened to him, and he'd never leave him alone.

Sensing Charlie's trepidation, Dr. Bradford leaned forward, toward Charlie.

"If it makes it easier, why don't you just point to the area where you were injured?"

Charlie gulped, glancing quickly between Dr. Bradford and Don. Finally, he stared at a spot on the floor, and began his pointing.

First, he pointed to his arms, dotting areas as he went. Hesitating, he waited a moment before he pointed to his legs. He slid his hands from thigh to toe. Then, he reached behind him, slightly moving so Dr. Bradford could see. He tried to use it to block Don's view, but he knew his brother saw. He pointed to his lower back, then his upper back in lines.

Charlie could have gone on, but he couldn't find the nerve. Taking a deep breath, he stood and turned his back to Dr. Bradford, and faced Don, blocking Don's view completely. He reached behind him and lifted his shirt, showing Dr. Bradford the scars on his back, trying to give the doctor an idea as to what all he'd been put through.

Dr. Bradford had seen his share of injuries, methods of torture, and deaths. Still, he couldn't deny that Charlie's scars had to rank high in the list of worse injuries he'd seen.

Don made eye contact with his brother as Charlie lifted his shirt. Don had only seen the scars on Charlie's arms, never expecting his brother to share more. In his mind, he convinced himself that those were the worst of them. There couldn't be anything else, right? Charlie hadn't been hurt that badly.

But when Don looked at Charlie's face, he knew that wasn't true. After Dr. Bradford had his look, Don stood, to see for himself. Charlie immediately dropped his shirt back down. Don moved faster, but Charlie turned, responding to Don's offensive movements with his own defensive ones.

"Let me see, Charlie," Don said, stern. Charlie simply sat down on the couch, pushing his back into it to hide.

"Let me see!" Don shouted. He knew he didn't want to, but at the same time, he knew he had to see.

Dr. Bradford watched the brothers, knowing Charlie's fear of his brother seeing. He could tell Don felt he had to see, but was afraid at the same time. Dr. Bradford didn't come between them, watching them together instead.

"Show me!" Don demanded, getting on the couch. Charlie simply pushed further into the couch. So, Don reached out and grabbed Charlie's arm. He pulled his brother to him, fighting against his struggling brother.

"No, Don!" Charlie shouted, not wanting Don to look.

Dr. Bradford stood and walked over. Though not as strong as he used to be, he still was able to pull Don off his brother easily.

"Eppes, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you continue to behave like this!"

Don stalked back a couple feet, giving himself space away from his brother and the doctor. He panted, staring openly at his brother. Charlie started back, fearfully looking at Don. He gripped his shirt, afraid Don could see through it to the scars beneath.

"Show me," Don said, but this time he sounded defeated, not angry.

Charlie continued to stare at his brother for a moment. Dr. Bradford looked between the two, standing between them still in case one of them decided to pounce. Rather, if Don decided to pounce again. Charlie thought a moment, and finally turned his back to his brother.

Don was surprised Charlie gave in. He watched his brother as Charlie slowly rolled up his shirt. Slowly, the scars became visible, and Don bit back a gasp.

Covering Charlie's lower back was the obvious outline of a clothing iron. The whole outline was filled in pink, showing where his captor had held it down for several seconds. Higher above the iron burn, Don found the scars from where what looked like a whip had been used against him, tearing open the flesh. Don felt sick to his stomach, knowing that this wasn't all of them.

Don backed into the corner of the room, the furthest point from his brother. He panted, breathing heavily as he stood there. He wiped his face with one hand, looking anywhere but at his brother.

"Don?" Dr. Bradford said quietly. He watched the emotions on the agent's face as Don seemed to reason what he had just seen.

Charlie self-consciously tugged on his shirt, as though to cover his already covered back.

"Give me a minute," Don breathed, choking. How could he have let so much happen to his brother? How could so much have happened to Charlie without him knowing? He was a friggin' FBI agent! He should have picked up on these things.

Charlie and Dr. Bradford watched Don, watched him fight his emotions. Charlie's tears fell down his face, and Dr. Bradford's attention moved between brothers. He wondered how anyone could think these two were anything but brothers. Their similarities were many, though it seemed they both could only see the differences. The love between them wasn't vocalized, but could be seen in their actions together.

Charlie's stomach rolled. Everyone knew too much. Don had seen too much, felt too much pain because of him. Now their father knew, too, and Charlie didn't know how to make it all stop.

Finally, Don managed his emotions. He took a tentative step toward Charlie, then stopped.

"Don, you want to tell Charlie how seeing those scars made you feel?"

Don's mouth opened, but he couldn't speak.

"Don?" This time it was Charlie speaking. He needed Don to say something. He needed Don to reassure him, show him that Charlie hadn't ruined everything for Don.

Don finally looked at Charlie. He saw the tears on Charlie's face, and he felt bad for leaving his brother's side. He just needed to think. He needed to step back.

"I'm sorry, Buddy. I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I didn't stop it from happening. I-"

"Stop it!" Charlie shouted, covering his ears a moment. Don stopped, looking at Charlie with confusion.

"You can't always save me! There was nothing you could do, Don. I handled this for myself. I got hurt, but that's my problem, not yours."

"He's right, Don. You can't always be there to save him," Dr. Bradford put in.

Don closed his eyes a moment. It had always been put in his head that he needed to protect his brother. When his parents stopped telling him that, he continued telling himself that. He internalized so much of what his parents told him, that he forever felt the need to protect his brother, even if he wasn't around. He'd blame himself for not being there, and he always felt some guilt for not saving him. It had become a part of him. How could Don just forget about that, leave that part of him behind, ignore his instincts?

"I can't take this."

Charlie stood and walked out the door. Don watched his brother leave, rooted to the spot. He let Charlie go, since they'd come in separate cars this time. Don turned to Dr. Bradford after a moment.

"What do I do? How... how do I fix this?"

Dr. Bradford took a deep breath. "Charlie is going to need time. It's good that you're helping him so far. I think he's going to need more time to process what happened to him, and how much he wants you and your father to know about it. He feels cornered right now, and guilty for putting his troubles on you. Just, let him come to you. That's all you can do right now."

Don licked his lips slowly. "I don't know if I can do that. I... I just want to help."

"And you will, by giving him space."

"Fine. I'll give it a shot." Don walked to the doctor, said his goodbye, and left.

--

Charlie went home, thankful that his father wasn't there. He was tired of being pushed, tired of causing pain. He just needed to get away. He needed to go.

Charlie quickly climbed the steps to his room, packed clothes, towels, books, his laptop, and paper, lots of paper. He couldn't think of what he really needed. He had his cell phone and credit card. He didn't expect to do anything irrational, so Charlie didn't bring anything out of the ordinary. He gathered his things, packed quickly, and left. He had driven about twenty miles, when he realized he hadn't told anyone what he was doing.

--

Don went home that evening, hoping to talk to his brother. He knew he couldn't push his brother anymore, and needed to give Charlie some space. However, he needed to tell Charlie where he stood, and how he'd be there when Charlie was ready to talk, if he was.

When he walked inside, he didn't hear any activity, which was strange for his house. He saw Alan's car in the driveway, so he assumed he was home. Maybe Charlie had taken him out to eat?

Don walked through the house, looking for anyone inside. He finally checked upstairs, and found the door to his brother's room open, with his father inside.

"Hey, Dad. What are you doing in here?" Don asked, stepping inside.

Alan sat on Charlie's bed, holding a pillow to his chest. He stared at a spot on the wall, looking stoney. "He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"His suitcase is gone. His clothes are gone. His books are gone. He's gone."

"Charlie? Where could he be? Did he tell you where he was going?"

"No." Alan's lip quivered, upset.

"Hey, Dad, it'll be okay. He'll be back soon."

Alan covered his face with his hands. "I went three months without seeing him, and look what happened while he was gone. What will happen now? Where could he be?"

"I don't know, Dad. I don't know. He's fine, I'm sure. He'll be back soon. Just you wait." Don forced a smile he didn't feel, and patted his father's arm. He then walked downstairs and out into the garage. He pulled out his cell phone, and pressed the speed dial for his brother.

It rang twice, and then Charlie answered.

"Where the hell are you?" Don demanded.

"I just needed to get away."

"Yeah, well, you've got me and Dad pretty damn worried. Where the hell are you, Charlie?"

"I-I-I don't know. I just started driving and haven't stopped."

"You could have told us you were leaving! Why didn't you at least leave a note? You could have been dead for all we know!"

"I'll come back. I just... I'm tired. I'll call you later. Bye, Don."

"Charlie, don't you dare hang up on me!" Before Don had the sentence off, Charlie had hung up. When Don dialed immediately back, Charlie had already turned off his phone.

"Damn it!" Don screamed, throwing one of Charlie's books across the room. Covering his mouth with his hand, Don paced angrily back and forth a moment. He couldn't see why Charlie had left. He understood space, but this was too much. He was angry, and scared, and hurt because Charlie had left him out. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to go after Charlie, but he knew that would only make Charlie mad, and more distant.

So for tonight, Don simply stayed at home, keeping an eye on his father, and planning what he'd do about Charlie.

**Hope that helped! I'm sorry it took so long again. School is super busy. I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks for keeping up with me!**


	9. Mistakes He Shouldn't Have Been Making

Charlie barely made it out of the state when he realized he'd made a huge mistake. He was in Nevada, just past the state line. He had noticed someone following him for the past half an hour. He wasn't sure if he was paranoid, or if it was a real concern. Either way, he felt real fear. As he drove, he finally took out his cell phone, and called the one person who always made him feel safe.

"Eppes," Don's gruff voice answered over the line.

"Don? I think I made a mistake."

"Charlie? What's going on?" Don leaned forward in his chair when he heard his brother's voice. It was the first he'd heard from Charlie since he'd left home.

"I wasn't thinking. I want to go home. Someone's following me I think." Charlie's breathing quickened, panic setting in. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be at home with his family.

"What? Who's following you? Where are you?"

"I'm in Nevada, just past the state line. I don't know what to do."

"Pull into a public area. Are you near any restaurants or gas stations?"

"No. What do I do, Donny? I'm scared. You're always here when I'm scared. Why aren't you here?"

Don closed his eyes, wishing he could travel through the line to his brother.

There was a moment of silence, except for the sound of Charlie's quick breathing. Don recognized the sound, and fear settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Charlie? Calm down, Buddy. It'll be okay."

"Don! I don't know what to do. Tell me what do."

"It's okay. Just pull over. Then come home. Dad and I will take care of you."

"I... I don't know how to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I'm coming home."

"That's good, that's good. Just come home. Do you need me to get you?" Don tried to keep his voice gentle, so he wouldn't scare his brother anymore.

"No, I... I need. I need to breathe. I can't breathe!" Charlie's panic had risen again, and his chest felt clogged. He pulled into a rest area quickly, and he saw the car behind him continue on.

"It's okay, Buddy. Just calm down. Breathe through your nose, out through your mouth." Don stood, as if he could get closer to his brother. He paced around his apartment, thinking about what he could do.

"I've never... I've never had to do this before... I need... I need you... I'm never alone. How do I... breathe?"

"Calm down! You're fine. Just breathe, Buddy. Breathe with me." Don tried to make his breathing heard over the line.

"Teach me to breathe!"

"Damn it!" Don cursed as he held the phone away from his mouth. He felt tears come to his eyes, knowing he couldn't be there to help his brother. Charlie had always had either his parents or Don with him when he'd had a panic attack. Now that he had to face it alone, Don wasn't sure Charlie would be able to calm himself down.

"Donny!" Charlie managed to scream, panic rising. His heart was beating too fast. He couldn't seem to get enough air. Where was Don? Why wasn't he with him?

"Listen to me, Buddy. You're fine, all right? Just breathe. Slow it down. Take a deep breath through your nose, out your mouth. Breathe like me, okay?"

Charlie shook, gripping the steering wheel in his hands. He tried to calm down, tried to breathe. Gulping each breath, he tried to slow things down.

"You with me?" Don asked when he didn't hear his brother. "Charlie?"

"I... I think... I'm okay," Charlie said, weak.

Don sat back in his chair, closing his eyes in relief. "Are you sure? You scared me there, Buddy."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Don managed a smile. "It's okay. Just, come home, okay? We'll talk later."

"All right. Bye, Don. Thank you."

"No problem, Buddy. I'll see you soon."

Charlie hung up and moved back onto the road. He didn't notice anyone suspiciously following him, and maybe no one ever had been. He wasn't entirely sure it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him. As he drove back home, unwanted memories came back to him, and filled the time he spent driving home.

_They had just taken the pillow case off his head for a brief second, but it was a glorious moment for Charlie. He didn't know how long it had been, but he suspected it had been weeks since he'd actually seen anything but darkness. Because of that, he squinted as the case came off his head, but he had still seen, and it was enough for him. The pillow case was then replaced by a blindfold, and it made it easier to breathe. He wondered at the act of semi-kindness, but he wasn't left to wonder long. Soon Jose had taken up his place as the tormentor again, and Charlie was doing all he could to avoid him._

_Today, Jose had put a pot of water on to boil. Once heated, he used it to torture Charlie. Since Charlie wasn't tied up, he managed to avoid Jose and move around. That is, until Jose had his men strap Charlie down on a hard cot. The feeling of being tied scared Charlie, and he felt even more helpless. His heart beat fast and his body was in a constant state of tension. He didn't know what Jose had in mind until he felt the first heated drop._

_Jose used a simple spoon to place drops of water on Charlie's exposed legs. His pants had been torn, leaving them looking more like shorts than pants. Jose stood over Charlie and let the drops fall on him, slow at first as he asked Charlie to talk._

_"Tell me, what does the NSA know about me," Jose ordered as he let a larger drop hit Charlie's legs._

_Charlie winced, the water burning his skin. He wriggled on the cot beneath the straps, trying to move out of the water's way. However, he couldn't even see from where the water was coming, so it was a useless effort._

_"I said, tell me!" Jose screamed and poured some of the pot out on Charlie's right calf. Charlie cried out in pain, but remained silent about what information the NSA had._

_After countless feeble attempts at getting Charlie to talk, Jose got so angry he took the rest of the pot, and poured it all over Charlie's legs. He was sure that not a drop was wasted as he spread the water equally between Charlie's legs. He smiled sinisterly as Charlie screamed and writhed in pain on the cot, choking on his own agony._

_Crying, Charlie whimpered and moaned on the cot when the water stopped. His stomach rolled at the pain and fear he felt. He had no idea how he was going to put up with any more of this. Charlie was really close to talking, but the thought of what Don would think of him made him feel worse. So Charlie didn't talk. He couldn't disappoint his brother._

_"Ready to talk now, or shall I continue?"_

_Panting each breath, Charlie struggled to speak. He managed to talk in between sobs._

_"I have nothing... to tell you."_

_"Oh, you'll have something to tell me real soon. We'll get big brother down here, and you'll have a lot to say. You'll be begging me to listen to you, professor. Just you wait."_

_Charlie had to listen carefully to hear when Jose left the room. When he was sure the man was gone, he let out a howl of pain as he crumpled into tears. He was still strapped to the cot, unable to move more than an inch at a time. He accepted it, though, because it was better than lying on the hard dirt floor. Charlie laid there and cried. Don couldn't get involved. Jose was just bluffing, right? It was just something he said to upset Charlie more, something to get him to talk. Don was safe in LA. He couldn't be here. Besides, Don could protect himself. Jose could never overpower Charlie's super hero brother._

_The next day, Charlie was released from the cot. He fell on his burned legs and he cried out once more. He quickly rolled onto his back and laid against the dirt, heaving and and panting each painful breath. His wrists were bound to ropes that were tied to rings on the wall. Charlie couldn't go more than five feet, and then he was pulled back by the binds. He struggled against them, and wished he were able to see._

_"I have a present for you," Jose mocked as he walked into the room. Charlie managed enough strength to try to back away from Jose, but it wasn't very far._

_"Maybe this will get you to talk." Jose tossed nothing but dead weight at Charlie, and it hit him hard in the stomach._

_Charlie squirmed and cried, trying to get the weight off him as it cut off his air supply. He recognized the weight as that of a human being's, and his heart skipped a beat._

_"I thought you might like a little company. I hope your brother's body will do." Jose laughed as he watched Charlie's face turn from one of struggle to one of devastation._

_"No! No!" Charlie screamed as he suddenly held the body against him._

_"I'll come back later for your information!" Jose screamed as he laughed his way out of the room._

_"No! No, Donny. Don't do this to me." Charlie struggled to get his brother's weight off him. He finally got out from under him and he checked for a pulse, a pulse he knew wouldn't be there. The body was already cold. There was no point._

_"Donny! Don't do this to me! You can't be dead!" Blindly, Charlie tried to administer CPR, but it was no use. Finally trying to think rationally, Charlie wondered if Jose was lying. Maybe it wasn't Don. He reached up and tried to take off the blindfold. He had tried before and failed, but he was desperate this time. He dug his nails into it, pulling and clawing at it as best as he could. However, the impossible knot could not be undone. The blindfold was too tight against his eyes to be taken off._

_So, seeing with his hands, Charlie touched over the body's face. He recognized the same shape of the nose, same spiked hair. He moved lower, felt the strong jaw. He decided to move farther, and found the belt. He took off a leather case, and he choked on a sob._

_Opening the case, he touched the inside. He could touch the letters, traced the unmistakable FBI with his fingers._

_"NO!" Charlie screamed as he burst into painful sobs. He clutched Don's body to him, holding his brother tightly. He sobbed into Don's shirt, crying and whimpering as his heart shattered. This couldn't be happening. Don couldn't be dead. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Charlie was supposed to protect his family this time. He was supposed to make it better. How could he have ever gotten involved? Why couldn't he have just said no? Why did he ever have to work for the NSA in the first place? If he hadn't, Don would be alive now._

_"I'm so sorry, Donny. I'm so sorry. I never told you how much I love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry I was such a pain when we were younger. I'm sorry I took up all Mom and Dad's time. I'm sorry I used to bug you all the time. I just wanted to impress you. I wanted to be like my big brother, because he was so much cooler than me. Please, Don, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Charlie clutched Don's body tighter, sobbing and shaking all over as he cried for the brother he had lost... the brother he had killed._

Charlie drove faster than he should have. As the memories came back to haunt him once more, he realized how lucky he was that Don was still alive. He could have easily lost his brother that day. What if he had? Would he even be here now? He couldn't imagine life without his brother. Getting through this would have been so hard without Don.

Driving fast, Charlie tried to drive faster than the memories, tried to outrun the memories. Just outside of LA, the memories were still behind him. Now, so were the LAPD.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don was sitting at his desk filling out paperwork. He rubbed his head, feeling the start of a migraine. He let his thoughts stray toward his younger brother, and he thought about calling him. As the thought left his head, his cell phone rang.

"Eppes," Don barked into the phone.

"Eppes? This is Lieutenant Walker. We just pulled your brother over for speeding. He don't look so good. You want to come get him?"

Don's heart beat a little faster. "Where are you?"

"Just outside LA." Walker gave Don the exact place, and hung up, promising to wait with Charlie.

Don grabbed Colby and they went off to get Charlie. Don brought Colby to drive Charlie's car.

Pulling into the gas station, Don saw the LAPD car and Lieutenant Walker standing outside. Don got out of his car quickly, walking over to Charlie. He was sitting his car, his head on the steering wheel.

Don stepped up to Charlie's side of the car and knocked on the glass. Charlie slowly lifted his head. When he saw his brother standing there, looking inside worriedly at him, Charlie quickly reached for the door, and pushed it open.

Don stepped back when Charlie opened the door. He waited for his brother to stand. Charlie looked up at him with his soulful eyes, and he suddenly hugged his brother.

Don wrapped his arms around Charlie, not really sure what was wrong. Charlie stepped back. He looked around, not sure what he was supposed to do.

"You can get in my car. Colby will drive your car back, okay?"

Charlie nodded and went to Don's car. Colby passed Charlie, patting him on the back as they walked by each other. He stepped up to Don and stood beside him, wondering what was going on. Lieutenant Walker walked up to them and shook their hands.

"Thanks for your help, Gary. I appreciate it."

"Well, the FBI has done the LAPD a few favors in the past. I figured we owed you."

"So, what did you pull him over for?" Don asked.

"He was speeding."

"So? That's not that bad. Why can't he drive now?"

"It's fine, Eppes. He's allowed to drive, but I had to give him a ticket. Do you have any idea how fast he was going?"

"No. How fast?"

"He was going 90 in a 55 zone. I couldn't let him off with a warning for that. He's got a clean record, so he should be fine. I just wanted you to come down here because something don't seem right with the kid."

"Like what? Is he sick?" Colby asked.

Gary sighed. "Sometimes a man speeds because he ain't paying attention. Sometimes he'll do it just for the rush, or just to see if he can do it without getting caught. But then there are times when a man is speeding like that because he's running from something, something he can't escape on foot. A man like that has to eventually turn around and face whatever it is head on. I have a feeling your brother was running away from something, Eppes. And he's going to have to stop running sooner or later."

Don nodded, feeling worry creep up his spine. Colby stole a glance toward Charlie, who was sitting with his head down in the front seat of Don's car.

"Take your brother home, Eppes." Walker nodded and walked off. Don turned to Colby, who simply looked back.

"The keys are in the car. Just follow me."

"Okay." Colby walked over to Charlie's car and go in and started up the car. Don went back to Charlie and his own car. Charlie had his head against the window, his eyes closed.

"Let's get you home, Buddy."

Charlie simply nodded, his eyes still closed. Don drove home silently, often sneaking a glance toward Charlie. He wasn't sure what was wrong with his brother, but he was worried about him.

When they pulled into the driveway of their craftsman house, Charlie simply got out of the car and went to the door. Don hung back to take care of Colby.

"Here you go, boss man," Colby said as he got out of the car.

"Here. Take my car back to the office. I'll have Dad drive me later to pick it up."

"You sure?" Colby asked, excited at the thought of driving Don's car.

"Take it. Thanks for your help."

"Any time. Take care of the Whiz-Kid for me."

Don nodded. "I will."

Don patted Colby on the back and the agent got inside Don's car and drove off. Don went to the house, and was surprised to find Charlie hadn't stepped inside yet.

"Let's go in, Buddy," Don said, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder to lead him inside.

Charlie did as Don asked and stepped inside his house. Alan was immediately on his feet when he saw Charlie walk through the door.

"Charlie! Where have you been?" It wasn't a reprimand, more concern and fear. Alan had had no idea where his son had gone. He'd already gone months without seeing him. He didn't want to miss his son any longer.

Charlie looked up at his father. He hadn't been gone long, but he had missed him. These were the people he felt safe with, the people he needed. Charlie was so glad Alan hadn't been involved when he was captured. To believe he'd lost both his father and brother would have killed him faster than anything Jose ever did to him.

"Daddy..." Even Charlie was surprised at the name that slipped out of his mouth. He hadn't called his father that in at least 20 years.

Alan's heart jumped as Charlie called him "daddy." Moving forward, he quickly walked up to his son and took him in his arms. Charlie held onto his father tightly, pressing his face hard into the older man's chest.

"Sh, I've got you. Daddy's here," Alan soothed.

Don looked on, wondering what caused the sudden break. Charlie hadn't seemed like himself since Don had gotten him, but he hadn't seemed ready to break. And then, just like that, Charlie broke down just at seeing his father.

Don was about to go up the steps when Charlie noticed his brother's movement.

"Don!" he cried.

Don stopped and looked at his brother, worried. "Yeah, Buddy?"

Charlie pushed away from his father and went to Don quickly. He wrapped his arms around Don, holding his brother with all the strength he had.

"I'm so glad you're safe," Charlie said, his voice muffled by Don's shirt.

"I'm glad you're safe, too, Buddy." Don looked over Charlie's head to his father, wondering if he had any idea what was going on. Alan simply shrugged, smiling slightly as he watched his boys hug each other.

Charlie finally pushed back. "I'm sorry if I worried you guys. I just... I needed to get away."

"It's okay, son. The important thing is that you're home now, with your family," Alan said as he came up behind Charlie.

"Thanks, Dad." Charlie smiled and turned to the steps. "I think I'm going to get a shower."

"Okay. I'll get your things out of the car, okay?"

"Okay, Don." Charlie smiled and went up the steps.

Don smiled at his father and went outside to his brother's car. He was almost done when he realized his brother's cell phone was still in a cup holder. He picked it up and saw the screen informing him of a new text message. Curious, Don flipped the phone open. When he saw what the text said, he could have crushed it in his hand.

"Charlie, I have more information on the new assignment. You're still in, right? Give me a call.-Bob" the text read.

Don felt his blood run hot. If Bob even tried to take Charlie away again, Don would personally beat the crap out of him. He slammed the door to his brother's car too hard and stalked back to the house, ready to give his brother a piece of his mind.

**A little bit of a cliffhanger, huh? Sorry about that. Again, sorry it's taken so long. I hate posting short chapters, though you guys might prefer it. I'll see what I can do. Show of hands, how many would prefer shorter chapters more often than longer chapters less often? I'll see what I can do if you prefer the short way. That's fine with me, if I can manage to stop myself without cliffhangers all the time. LOL Hope this helps, as usual. I'll see you next time!**


	10. Charlie Shouldn't Surf

**Note: I am NOT a surfing expert, nor have I ever surfed. Correct me if/when I'm wrong. Thanks!**

Don stormed into the house. He climbed the stairs, two at a time, and barged into his brother's room. Charlie was in the middle of changing shirts when Don walked in unannounced.

"What's the matter?" Charlie asked, wondering what could have gone wrong in the little time it had been since he'd seen his brother. Though Charlie didn't feel too well himself, it was obvious his brother had problems of his own to face.

"What the hell is this?" Don demanded, shoving Charlie's cell phone into his brother's hands. Charlie took it, confused. He looked down and saw he had a text message from Bob Tompkins. Reading the message quickly, he understood his brother's anger.

"Don, let me explain-"

"Explain what? How you're going back to work for the NSA after they almost got you killed! Bob Tompkins is the biggest ass hole I've ever seen! How the hell could he expect you to work for him again after what you went through? And are you _actually_ considering it! You can't be serious, Charlie. You could have been killed! I will not let you go and get yourself murdered over something as simple as math. This isn't your job, it's mine. You tell Bob Tompkins to stay the hell away from you, or I will personally beat the shit out of him!"

Charlie's anger mirrored his brother's. "That's not fair! You don't even know what I've decided. You didn't even ask me!"

"He said, 'you're still in, right?' If you ask me, that sounds like I don't have to ask any questions. You've already made your decision, and it's a stupid one!"

"Don, would you listen to me for ten seconds?! I told him I would take the assignment four months ago! I don't plan on going now!"

"You'd better not, Charlie, or you're a lot dumber than I thought."

"Don't say that! Don't you dare say that to me!" Charlie screamed, shoving Don as he stomped out of his room.

Don sighed, angry still, but feeling calmer. He watched his brother leave and go down the steps. Rubbing his forehead, he didn't know what to do next. He went down the steps and found his father standing in the living room.

"What was that about? I thought I heard shouting."

"It's nothing, Dad."

"Don't you lie to me, Donald."

Don cringed as his father used his real name. "Fine. We were having an argument, because I thought Charlie was getting ready to go on another assignment for the NSA. Happy?"

"Yes, and don't get that tone with me. Why would he do something like that?"

"I don't know. He says he's not going to."

"Well, he'd better not. Is that why he stormed out of here?"

"Yeah. Where'd he go? I'd better talk to him."

"Where else?" Alan laughed, turning back to his chair and his newspaper.

Don nodded. "Right." He headed out through the kitchen to the garage. He slowly opened the door and saw his brother tackling a chalkboard. Charlie wrote furiously on the board, his whole body moving.

"Charlie, can I talk to you?"

Charlie ignored his brother. He heard Don just fine, had even expected his presence. He just didn't want to talk right now. He didn't appreciate his brother's accusations and his quick assumptions. Charlie wasn't an idiot. He had told Bob as soon as he had seen him after his capture that he would never work for the NSA again. What would make Don think otherwise? Sure, the message had been there, but Charlie hadn't even heard from Bob lately. Bob must have thought he would have changed his mind, but there was no going back now.

"Charlie?" Don said, closer this time. He stepped up behind his brother, waiting for Charlie to talk.

"I have nothing to say, Don," Charlie mumbled, still writing on the board.

"Then listen. I'm sorry I accused you of that, but you have to admit it didn't look right. What was I supposed to think?"

Charlie slammed the his fist against the board. "You were supposed to have a little faith in your brother!"

Don swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I just... I worry about you. When I saw that text, I freaked. I didn't want to see you getting hurt again. I figured you'd start working for the FBI and NSA again eventually. I just didn't expect it to be so soon."

"What? You honestly think I'd go back to the NSA?! Don, I told Bob Tompkins as soon as I saw him that I was never, _ever_ going to work for him again! I could have been killed. You or Dad could have been hurt. Hell, I already thought you were dead! If they had thrown Dad into the mix, I might as well have been killed. I am never working for the NSA again! Bob Tompkins can go to hell for all I care."

Charlie kicked the chalkboard and took a step back, panting. He clenched his fists tightly, ready to strike.

Don stood, staring at his brother in shock. Charlie had thought he was dead? He shivered at the thought. Don didn't know what he would do if he thought Charlie was dead. It would kill him. Is that what had happened to Charlie? Why hadn't he said something before?

"Charlie..." Don stepped up and touched his brother on the shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Charlie snapped, stepping out of Don's grasp. He felt the anger leave him, but he didn't want it to. When he was angry, he wasn't weak. He was so tired of being weak.

"When I thought you were dead... it killed me, Don. I don't think you understand how much. I wanted to change places, do anything. I blamed myself for getting you killed, just because of a stupid assignment for the NSA. If I had never gotten involved in the first place, you would have been alive. Even when I heard you were alive, I knew that I had to cut the NSA out of my life. I couldn't put myself and you and Dad in that position again. So I quit. I told Bob I wasn't going to work for him anymore, and I meant it. He probably expects me to change my mind, but I won't. When it comes to my family, I will do anything to keep you safe. I hope you understand that."

Don nodded, feeling an ache for his brother. He, too, would do anything. It was part of why he did what he did. Every criminal he put behind bars, every one he stopped, seemed like one less person who could hurt his family. Charlie had been put in danger several times while working with him, but he always got out of it. But if Don were put in the same position as Charlie, where he would know that his brother was dead, Don didn't know what he would do.

"I don't want to ever feel what I felt when you were dead again," Charlie said with such haunting in his voice and eyes that it scared Don. "So you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me and the NSA."

"I'm so sorry, Buddy." Don didn't know what to say, but sorry seemed appropriate.

"Don't be sorry, Don. You're alive. That's what matters."

Don smiled sadly, and took a step closer to Charlie. Charlie turned and stared up at his older brother. He could only picture him dead, cold and lifeless in the cell with him. He had never seen the body with his eyes, but his mind had come up with enough images for him. They all made him dead, and it was hard seeing his brother alive, even now.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Charlie smiled hesitantly. He watched Don continue to walk up to him and he hugged his brother tightly. Don returned the embrace with equal strength, trying to support his brother.

"You're alive," Charlie sighed with relief as his ear was pressed against Don's chest. He could hear his brother's heart beating, strong and steady, just like Don.

"I'm okay, Buddy. I'm not going to leave you," Don soothed as he held the back of his brother's neck, holding Charlie firmly against him.

Charlie closed his eyes as he tightened his hold on his older brother. Don was safe. He was alive.

"I'm so sorry, Buddy," Don whispered as he hugged his little brother. His heart hurt for Charlie, knowing that he had experienced something as hard as that.

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine," Charlie lied. He pushed out of his brother's arms and walked back to the chalkboard. He slowly picked up his chalk and began to write, more as a sign of dismissal for his brother than anything.

Don stood by and watched his brother for a few minutes. As he watched his brother, he could pick up on his anger and tension, even fear. Knowing he had it in his power to change that, Don thought fast on what he could do to ease his brother's stress.

The next day, Don came back over. Charlie was feeling better, dealing with his stresses as usual: hiding them and pushing them down deep. Don walked out in the garage and found his brother. He tossed a bag at his brother and Charlie caught it.

"Let's get out of here," Don suddenly said.

Charlie turned, confused. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's get out of here. You need a break. Come on."

"You're serious?" Charlie looked at his brother skeptically.

"Charlie, I'm serious. Let's just go." Don headed out the door, expecting his brother to follow. Charlie paused a moment, thinking his brother insane. Shaking his head, he followed.

"Where are we going?" Charlie asked as he climbed into his brother's car willingly.

"You and I both need a break. We're going to the beach."

"You're serious? Don, you know how much I burn when I go to the beach."

"That's why I brought sunscreen, idiot," Don laughed.

"Right." Charlie nodded. He was able to stay silent all of two minutes before he asked his brother the next question.

"What are we doing?"

Don sighed. "Look in the bag."

Charlie opened the bag at his feet, seeing two wet suits inside. He turned around and in the back seat he saw two large surfboards.

"Don, I haven't surfed in years!"

"Then there's no better time to start up again!"

Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes he wondered about his brother's sanity.

It didn't take them long to get to the beach. Don pulled over at a rest stop just by the beach so they could change into their wet suits. Charlie quickly lathered on the sunscreen and then changed. While Don waited on Charlie, he walked out to the water and began wading in. The water was perfect, in his opinion. It wasn't too cold so that you couldn't stand it, but it was just cool enough to be refreshing on a hot day. He looked up and saw his brother walking over, looking awkward with the large surfboard.

"Come on in!" Don called, waving his brother over when Charlie didn't see him.

Charlie waved in return and walked over. He let the waves hit his feet before he went too far, easing in. He stood next to Don after he took a few steps further into the water.

"You ready, Chuck?"

"I'm ready if you are, _Donald_."

Don laughed. "Then let's go."

Don laid his stomach against his surfboard and started swimming farther out. Charlie trailed behind him at a slower pace. Eventually Charlie broke off farther to the right while Don stayed to the left, spacing out.

As the first big wave came, Don smiled to himself. He perched on his board, prepared to raise up at the perfect moment. As the wave neared, he stood on the board and maneuvered his board, riding out the wave. He followed the wave pretty far in when he jumped off. He surfaced and grabbed onto his board, staying afloat. He looked around for Charlie and watched his brother ride a wave in toward him.

"Go Charlie!" Don yelled, clapping his hands as his brother passed him. Charlie managed a hesitant smile as he continued to ride the wave, then began to fall off, so he jumped. Swimming closer, he came by Don.

"Nice moves, man!" Don cheered, giving his brother a high five.

"Thanks. You looked pretty good out there yourself."

"See? What'd I tell you? You still got it in you."

Charlie smiled. "It did feel good to get back out there. Ready for more?"

"You know it." Don smiled and they went back out. They both rode several waves, each jumping off and sometimes falling off at the end. They watched each other, keeping an eye out for the other. Don had just gone back out and was getting ready to ride a wave out when he saw his brother get body slammed by a wave he underestimated.

"Charlie!" Don yelled, taking a quick glance behind him. The wave was getting closer, but he needed to get to his brother. Charlie had yet to surface, and his board had taken off without him. Watching the wave, he prepared to ride the wave to his brother.

Quickly Don moved his board, pointing in the direction his brother had been. He rode toward his brother, feeling this was faster than he would have been if he'd been swimming. The wave gave him the extra push he needed.

Charlie hadn't expected the wave to come so soon. He had just turned around it seemed to check where it was when it suddenly was on top of him, twisting and turning him all around. He couldn't breathe as the wave rolled him underwater. Knowing he'd come full circle, he found himself looking up at the sun underwater at one point, and then another wave hit and he went farther down. He fought against the wave, trying to swim to the surface as his lungs burned with the need to breathe.

"Charlie!" Don yelled as he neared the area his brother had been taken under. Don pulled the goggles on top of his head over his eyes and dove underwater, his own board left behind. He searched the area, looking for Charlie, but the water was not clear enough for him to tell. Surfacing, he swam to his board and held on. Mercifully, he looked around and saw his brother's red wet suit a few yards away.

"Charlie!" Don called again, and he kicked as hard as he could, swimming to his brother. He reached out with his hands, hoping to catch onto his brother. As he reached once, he grabbed onto his brother's hand. As soon as he felt the hand in his, he gave a mighty tug and Charlie surfaced, choking and gasping for air.

"I've got you! I got you!" Don said loudly as he brought his brother closer to him. Instinctively, Charlie latched onto Don, trying to stay afloat.

"You're okay. I've got you. Hang on."

Don moved so that he was underneath his brother's chest and made Charlie hang onto him around the shoulders. Don swam toward shore until he could feel his feet hit the sand beneath them.

"Stand up, Charlie," Don gasp when his brother didn't let go. He finally felt his brother's weight ease off him as Charlie managed to walk. He let go of Don, only to fall to his knees in the water and sand.

"Charlie!" Don quickly wrapped his arms around his brother's middle and pulled Charlie up. The force to his stomach caused Charlie to purge much of the water he'd been swallowing. Still doubled over, Charlie spit out the water, then stood.

"Stay right here," Don ordered as he helped his brother lay down in the sand. Don turned back to the water and grabbed his surfboard, which had made it to shore. Taking off at a run, he managed to grab his brother's as well, which had made it to shore farther away.

Throwing the boards safely away from the water, Don made it back to his brother. Charlie was weakly coughing up more water and shivering from the fear.

"Oh, Buddy, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Don asked, worried as he looked down at his brother.

"I'm okay," Charlie whispered hoarsely.

"You scared me to death," Don breathed. He sat down beside his brother, watching Charlie take in deep breaths.

"Sorry. Wave came on me too fast. I didn't expect it to be so big."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're all right."

"I think I swallowed a fish," Charlie managed to moan before he sat up, doubled over, and emptied his stomach of all it's contents, no fish involved.

Don rubbed his brother's back while Charlie emptied his stomach. When the heaving stopped, Charlie sat back on his feet and looked up at Don.

"I think it's time to go home," Charlie said pitifully.

Don managed a smile. "I think so, too."

They went back to Don's SUV and reached into the back for the towels Don had packed. Charlie quickly dried off, starting to feel a chill. After rinsing off quickly with the outside showers provided at the rest stop, the brothers changed back into their street clothes and drove off.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Don asked, worried.

Charlie moaned. "Please, don't mention food."

Don laughed. "Okay, fine. You just want to go home then?"

"Please."

"All right, Buddy. We'll get you home."

Charlie rested his head against the passenger door. He was coming down from the adrenaline rush of almost drowning and it was leaving him drained. Closing his eyes, he started to doze. Shaking himself, he tried to stay awake.

"It's okay, Buddy. You can sleep. I can handle this. Just go to sleep."

Charlie mumbled a thank you that Don didn't understand and he was soon asleep.

Don smiled as his brother slept. It wouldn't take long for them to get home, so he decided to take a little detour. He drove around town a minute, and stopped at the store to buy a few things for that night. He inspected the fish section and had to laugh when he thought about what Charlie's reaction would be. Picking up a case of beer and a couple of rib eyes, he checked out and went back to the car. Charlie was still sound asleep when he got back in and started up the car. When Don pulled into the driveway of their home, Charlie finally managed to stir when the car came to a sudden stop.

"Are we home?" Charlie asked groggily.

"Yeah, Buddy. We're home."

"Good." Charlie nearly fell out of the car and went inside the house, forgetting anything Don had in the car to carry inside. Don just took his groceries inside and laid them on the table.

"What'd you pick up, Donny?" Alan asked as he walked in to the kitchen behind his oldest.

"Couple of rib eyes, if you're interested."

"When have I not been interested in red meat? I'll start up the grill."

"Great! I was hoping you'd say that." Don smiled. He took a bottle of beer out of the case and put the rest in the refrigerator. He went to the living room to see what game he could find on. Charlie was laying the couch, half asleep.

"I'm sorry about today, Buddy. If I had known that was going to happen..."

Charlie interrupted his brother. "Don't worry about it, Don. I had fun. It was exactly what I needed to get my mind off things. I had a lot of fun, Don, except for that last part."

Don smiled. "I'm glad. Dad's got some rib eyes going on the grill."

Charlie smiled sleepily. "Red meat... let's eat."

Charlie pushed further into the couch and was asleep in seconds. Don chuckled softly as he watched his brother drift off to sleep. Standing, he got up and went to the closet and pulled out a blanket. When he got back, he covered his little brother up with the blanket. Knowing how his brother hated his feet to be covered when he slept, Don knelt down by the couch near Charlie's feet. Slowly he untied Charlie's shoes and then started to take off his brother's socks, surprised to find the crooked toes beneath. He recognized that they all had been broken on one foot. He took off the other sock and found the same thing there. However, he also saw the obvious signs of healed third degree burns as well.

"Oh, Charlie," Don sighed. He quickly put the socks back on his brother's feet, afraid his father would see. He covered his brother's feet up with the cover and lightly patted his brother's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Buddy," Don whispered, stood, and went out to help his father with the steaks.

**Hello! How is everyone? I hope you're all doing well and had a great Thanksgiving! I'm so sad to see that Numb3rs is on break now, and we're back to repeats. Wah! I'm not happy about it, but this season has been fabulous so far. Woot! I hope you all have liked it too. Did you like my addition with the surfing? That was my addition to the episode Charlie Don't Surf, since I really wanted them to go surfing for a lot longer than they did, and maybe have something like that happen. Oh, well. What are you going to do? I hope to be able to update soon, but finals are coming up really fast. Then I will be on a long break, though! That should help with updating as well. So I'll write more as soon as I can. Thanks for the reviews! I live off them!**


	11. Blood On His Hands

"CHARLIE!" Don woke up screaming, feeling the strain in his dry throat. He shot up in bed, shaking and nervously moving. He couldn't remember whether he was at his apartment or home, so he had to take a moment to take in his surroundings. When his father hurried through the door, Don's question was quickly answered.

"Donny! Are you all right?" Alan asked as he moved to his son. He could see the sweat glistening off his son's skin. Don was sitting up in bed in a t-shirt and shorts, but he still looked uncomfortably hot.

Don visibly shivered a moment before speaking, showing his struggle for composure. "I'm fine, Dad."

"You're obviously not." Alan slowly lowered himself to the bed beside Don, feeling his knees creak as he sat.

Don wiped his hand across his mouth, showing his unease. He then cupped his hands behind his head as he leaned forward, bending at the waist.

Alan turned so that he was facing Don and he watched his oldest son's profile in the soft light from the moon. Don briefly turned to look at his father, though he knew he was being watched.

"Are you going to talk about it, or are we just going to sit here the rest of the night?" Alan teased softly.

Don gave a short chuckle. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he lowered his head. His heart was still racing from the nightmare that woke him, and he could feel his stomach churn at the thought of his nightmare coming true.

"Where's Charlie?" Don whispered.

Alan raised his eyebrows. "In his bed. Why? It's three o'clock in the morning. Where else would he be?"

"Nowhere. I was just checking," Don said, obviously lying.

"What happened to him?" Alan asked, referring to Don's nightmare.

Don shivered again at the thought. He could still see the red on the carpet, could see the gun in Charlie's hand. He never expected it, never even thought about it until the nightmare. Was Charlie really that bad off? Had being gone and tortured affected him that badly? Had Don not even noticed?

"He died," Don whispered so quietly that Alan struggled to hear him. He watched Don's face when he made out what his son had said. He watched the whirlwind of emotions cross Don's face. Alan knew the connection the brothers had, maybe even more than his sons did. He could only imagine what kind of an effect this had on the protective older brother.

"How?" Alan questioned.

"He... he killed... he killed himself." Don struggled to get the words out, because the idea scared him too much, and the memory strangled him.

"Don?" Don and Alan both looked up as a groggy Charlie stood in the doorway. He rubbed his eyes, squinting at the hall light.

"Hey, Buddy. What are you doing up?"

"I was wondering the same thing about you two. Are you okay? I thought I heard screaming."

"I'm okay. You can go back to bed."

Charlie nodded sleepily. "Okay. Good night, Dad. Good night, Don."

"Good night, Charlie," they said together. Don watched Charlie stumble away. When he was out of sight, he turned to his father.

"Are you really okay?" Alan asked suspiciously.

"I'll be fine, Dad. Really. You should go back to sleep."

Alan watched Don a moment. He knew his son was too stubborn to admit being scared or hurt, and so he knew not to push. What Don had shared was more than he usually did, so he should be content with that.

"All right. I believe you." Even so, he still reached out and brought his son into his arms for a tight hug. He felt Don press his face into his shoulder a moment, as though hiding, before he released his hold on Alan.

"Good night, Donny." Alan cupped the back of Don's neck a moment, looking into his son's face. He patted Don's cheek, then stood and left.

Don took a deep breath when his door closed and released it in a loud puff. He stretched his arms and back, twisting and turning to relieve the kinks in his back. He held his hand over his mouth a moment, thinking. He finally forced himself to lie back down and try to get some sleep.

As he closed his eyes, though, the sound of the gun being fired echoed again in his mind and his eyes shot open. His heart raced again, and he wondered if he'd ever get the image out of his mind. In his dream, he had just walked in the door when he heard the gun go off. He had run upstairs with his gun in hand and was devastated to find his brother on the floor of his room. Charlie laid on the floor, a bullet through his heart, and blood pooling around him. The gun was still hot in his hand, and Don fell to his knees. He sobbed, feeling uselessly for a pulse. Knowing his brother was dead, he fell again to the floor, his brother's blood staining his blue jeans. Don watched as his tears fell of his chin and into the blood, mixing them together into some tragic concoction. His sobs could be heard, echoing off the walls of the empty house. He knew the neighbors could hear, but he didn't care. His baby brother was dead, and he wasn't there in time to stop him.

Don shivered as he thought about it. Too shook up to sleep, he stood and left his room. His heart was still racing, and though he had just seen him, he had to get one more convincing glimpse. He slowly opened the door to Charlie's bedroom and slipped inside. Charlie was stretched out on his side, his legs taking up the whole width of his bed. His arms were under his head, further propping up his pillows. He was breathing lightly as he slept, barely moving.

Don couldn't help but watch for a moment, checking to see the even rising and falling of his brother's chest. He couldn't imagine Charlie ever taking his own life, but Don worried that the dream had been some sort of a warning. Was he not taking enough time with Charlie? Had he missed something drastic? Had more happened to Charlie than he knew about? Don wasn't sure he wanted the answers, but he knew he couldn't let his brother do that.

Finally content, Don slept in his room, knowing that the only way he could help Charlie would be to be there when it happened.

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Don came over late one night after working all day. His back was sore from sitting in his car all day on a stakeout with Colby. After too much coffee and not enough sleep, he was too tired to make it back to his apartment. He walked inside the craftsman house, wondering why it was so quiet.

Don had seen his father's car was missing from out front, but that still left Charlie. His brother wasn't the loudest person in the world, but his presence was usually known from this far away. Maybe he was out in the garage, Don pondered as he walked through the kitchen and into the living room.

About to sit down on the couch, Don quickly opened up the TV stand. He grabbed the remote and was turning back around when his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

A gunshot shook the house and broke the eery silence. Don's heart lurched as his supposed nightmare turned into reality. He took a first stumbling step, his knees already giving out at the idea of what he would find. Silently, Don prayed his dream would not transform into reality. Heart pounding fast, knees shaking, breathing quick, Don ran up the steps, gun drawn. He went to the room, the room he knew the shot went off in. After listening a brief moment, Don kicked the door open, closing his eyes a long second before looking. He knew what he would find. He knew who held the gun. He knew what would be behind the door. He knew the blood would be there. He knew it would be over. He knew...

Don opened his eyes and found his brother on his knees in the middle of the room. Charlie was shaking on the floor, a gun hanging in his limp hands. Clearly shaken, Charlie's wide eyes and opened mouth turned as he looked up at his older brother.

"Charlie!" Don gasped, thankful his brother was alive. He took the gun from his brother's hand and slid it across the floor, away from them. He dropped his own weapon back to its holster and he grabbed his brother. Don immediately started searching Charlie for any injuries. Where was the blood? Where was the bullet?

"I'm not... I'm not shot!" Charlie managed to say, panic still evident in his voice.

Don looked up into his brother's eyes, as if for confirmation. He searched the room, which was when he noticed the definite hole in the wall across from where Charlie had been.

"What the hell happened?" Don was just worried, but the question came out as angry, and he saw Charlie wince.

"I... I don't know! I just... I picked it up. I was, I was about to put it in my drawer, and, and, and it went off! I'm sorry! I just... I didn't know it would do that." Charlie spoke fast, his hands moving fast as he talked. He was still shaking like a leaf and he could swear Don could hear his heart beating out of his chest.

"It's okay. You're all right, right? You're okay?" Don asked, grasping Charlie's shoulders.

"I'm all right," Charlie gasped, aware that he really was okay, thankfully. He stared at the hole in the wall ahead of him, and shook again.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay, Buddy." Don brought his brother to him, hugging him closely. Charlie continued to shiver, but felt better in the protection of his brother's arms. He suddenly felt Don's arms tighten, and heard his brother take in a shaking breath. Concerned, Charlie pushed away far enough that he could look up at his brother's face. Don's eyes were closed tightly as he held onto his little brother, and Charlie could see the strained emotion by his brother's crinkled forehead.

"Don?" Charlie asked when his brother still didn't let go.

"I'm okay, Buddy," Don whispered in response, still not letting go.

"You sure?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Don took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and let go of his brother. He managed a weak smile as he looked at his brother's face. "Yeah, Charlie. I'm fine."

"Okay." Charlie smiled in return, realizing that he was feeling better already with the distraction of his brother's distress.

Charlie stood and gave his brother a hand up after he was standing. Don stood after him, pulling on Charlie's arm for support.

"Thanks, Buddy." Don patted Charlie's back once he was standing.

Charlie smiled in response. "So? How are we going to explain this one to Dad?"

Don chuckled. "Hey, that's not my problem. I don't know where you got this 'we' you're talking about."

"Thanks, man. Real pal." Charlie rolled his eyes.

Don held up his hands in surrender. "I ain't touching that."

"Fine. It's my house anyway. Let's go grab a beer."

"A beer sounds good."

"All right. Two beers it is." Charlie headed downstairs in front of Don. Don paused a moment inside his brother's room, looking at the gun on the floor and the hole in the wall. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened in this room, what his dreams had predicted for him. He finally brought himself to leave the room when a thought occurred to him.

Charlie was in the kitchen, two cans of beer on the counter next to him. He was reaching up into one of the cupboards above the stove for a box of crackers when Don walked in behind him.

Don grabbed his beer off the counter and quickly opened it. Taking a quick swig, he watched his brother reach for a while until he reached over and grabbed the box for Charlie. "This what you want?"

Charlie sighed, hating how his brother was taller than him. "Yeah. That's it. Thanks."

Charlie took the box of crackers and opened up a sleeve and began munching the salty crackers.

"I was just thinking," Don started to say, but hesitated, afraid he didn't want to know the answer.

"Hmm?" Charlie managed to say with his full mouth.

"What were you doing with the gun in the first place?"

Charlie paled and he set down the box of crackers before they slipped from his hands. He swallowed hard, partially to get the remaining cracker down his throat and partially to work his throat that seemed to be closing. He braced himself by placing both hands on the edge of the counter.

"Charlie?" Don asked, watching his brother struggle to answer his question.

Charlie shook his head, biting his lower lip. He stared at the cupboard in front of him before he turned to his brother.

"I'm falling apart...."

Don's heart jumped. Was his dream coming true?

"I... I don't feel safe in my own home. I'm miles and miles away from where I'd been, but... I feel right back in that hole they left me. I don't feel safe anymore. I'm right back there, where I was. It's like nothing has changed. So... I was looking to hang onto the one thing that might make me feel like maybe I had some control. I took the gun you left for us a couple years back for protection. You know how Dad and I are so anti-guns, but... I really can see myself using one. If it ever came back to that again... I'd use it in a heartbeat."

Don stared at his brother, his throat working against the emotions that seemed to clog there. He wished he could provide his brother some feeling of safety. He wished he had been able to do so sooner. Did Charlie not feel safe with him anymore? It seemed that way.

Charlie turned around from the counter and took a large, gasping breath. "I'm falling apart. I can't even be safe in my own home anymore, and I... I'm falling to pieces."

Charlie sobbed, no tears needed.

Don's heartbeat quickened. What was he supposed to do?

"Oh, Charlie." Don looked over and saw his father standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He hadn't even heard him come in the house. Don silently chastised himself for getting caught off guard.

Charlie looked up at his father, his lip quivering. "Hold me together... I need... I need glue... I just, I need... I need someone to hold me together. It's the only way to keep me from falling apart."

Alan tossed the groceries in his hands aside. He quickly walked up to his son and took Charlie in his arms, holding as tightly as he could. Charlie wrapped his arms around his father in return, hugging with equal strength.

Don watched his father hold Charlie tightly. Charlie shifted in his father's arms and grasped at a button on Alan's shirt. The movement somehow seemed to soothe him, distracted him. It reminded Don of when Charlie was younger.

Charlie had always been sensitive, and his feelings seemed to get hurt at the littlest thing. His tender heart caused him many hours of tears and crying in his mother's arms. Margaret would always hold him, rocking him back and forth and humming softly to him. Charlie would be curled up in a ball in his mother's lap and he would hold her necklace in his hand, staring at it as he twisted it one way and then another. It would soothe him as he petted it and held it in his hands. Margaret often would try to take it off and give it to him, but Charlie never wanted that. Don always assumed it was because it was on their mother that it was soothing. Seeing Charlie seem to repeat that motion, Don wondered what ever happened to the necklace.

"Sh. You're okay, Charlie boy. You're at home. Nothing's going to touch you here. Dad's got you. I've got you," Alan soothed.

Charlie took a gulping breath as he pressed his face into his father's shirt. His tears seemed to disappear past his eyes as Alan's shirt absorbed the moisture.

Don felt awkward just standing around. He moved past them and into the living room. He sat down on the couch, wondering what he could do to help his brother. Charlie shouldn't have to be scared in his own home. This is where you were supposed to feel safest. It was all wrong. Charlie never should have to feel that way. Why couldn't he be safe? Wasn't it all over?

Don had a sickening feeling in his gut, one that told him maybe that was the problem. Maybe Charlie was still in danger, and maybe Don still had a reason to fear for his brother's safety.

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_Flashback_

"NO! Stop! Leave me alone!" Charlie screamed, desperate. He kept pushing into the wall behind him, ignoring the pain that ensued because of it. The cuts on his back from the whip began to bleed again, smearing the concrete wall. The burn on his lower back still throbbed with pain, only worsened by the scraping against the wall. But Jose was moving at him now with a gun in his hands. He couldn't find a place to escape. There seemed to be no openings in the room. Don's dead body lay just feet away from him. Charlie's vision was still blocked by the blindfold over his eyes. The gun went off again, piercing into Charlie's side.

"Stop! Please!" Charlie begged, crying now. The tears slid down his face, washing off the blood under his nose where Jose had punched and broken it.

"Never!" Jose laughed menacingly. Another shot was fired, hitting Charlie's upper thigh, where he'd already been burned. Charlie screamed out in pain, terrified.

"FBI! Get down!" Suddenly Charlie heard the words, and he knew for sure he'd been killed. However, he wasn't dead. He heard a shot go off, and expected another shot to pierce him. Instead, Jose was pushed into him. He had been shot in the arm, hoping to disable the man enough so they could arrest him.

"You're not getting off that easy," Jose whispered to Charlie and punched him where he'd been shot. Charlie shouted in response, and reached out blindly. He felt Jose's hair, then his neck. In a quick movement, he choked the man and reached down for Jose's gun.

"This is for Don," Charlie whispered in Jose's ear before pulling the trigger, affectively killing the man who had tortured him for the past week, and supposedly had killed his brother. The agents in the room had ducked at the sound of the bullet, surprised to find Charlie had pulled the trigger. When the captive dropped the gun immediately after firing, he collapsed onto the ground, strength gone as he bled out.

"Charlie? Charles Eppes? Are you with me?" an agent asked as he came over to the injured man. Charlie was already out of it, and the agents quickly carried him out, and took him away to some place safe.

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Charlie swallowed hard as he laid in his bed. He could remember taking the man's life. He hadn't even gotten to see his face when it happened. He just remembered feeling incredibly dirty, like Jose's blood was still on him and it wouldn't come off. Even after all Jose had put him through, he didn't feel justified in taking another life. He understood how Don felt, but did his brother go through this every time? Was there ever a way to get over it? There had been no questioning of his motive. Everyone involved knew why he had done it. It was purely self defense. The signs were all over Charlie's body. The gunshot wounds, the burns, the cuts. It was all over Charlie's body, like a story of his tortures. There was no questioning his motive, but Charlie still wondered if he could have handled it differently. His instincts seemed animalistic. At the time, there was no question in his mind what he should do. Then, Don had been dead and Jose was ready to kill Alan too. It was the least he could do. But the agents had been there. They could have taken care of him. But, no, Charlie had killed him. He took matters into his own hands, and killed the man who had been slowly killing him.

The gun beside his bed still shone against the moonlight. Charlie reached out and picked it up, wondering if killing got easier each time. He had said he wouldn't hesitate to use it again, and it was true. If Alan or Don got threatened again, he wouldn't flinch. He would do anything to protect them, even if it meant prison for him. He didn't care.

Charlie closed his eyes, trying to make himself sleep. His last thought before he fell asleep was "When did I become so much like Don?"

**I am on break now! Yay! Sorry it still took a while to get this up. I had a bit of writer's block, and some much needed rest time. I also got the fourth season of Numb3rs, which has been distracting today. Haha! I love it! How many of you are crying over Charlie's hair? THEY CUT IT!!!! HOW COULD THEY? I was so mad! You guys HAVE to watch the next episode of Numb3rs, though! Buck is coming back! Remember, from the first two episodes of season three, where Megan was kidnapped? He's looking for revenge against Don, and I can't wait to see it! It won't be new until January, I think, which stinks. Anyway, I hope this is a good Christmas present, or Hanukkah! Whatever you believe, hope this is a good read for you! More to come as soon as possible! I hope the whole FBI coming to Charlie made sense. I didn't think the NSA really did that sort of thing, but I couldn't think of who else would. Also, if you have any ideas for what you want to see in the story, feel free to tell me! Thanks!**


	12. A Surprise

**Note: I don't know what a case file looks like or how it is setup. Also, if I haven't said it lately, I make no profit from writing this, except for payment through lovely reviews that boast my spirits up. I don't own Numb3rs or any of its contents.**

Don was sitting at his desk when the floor dropped out from underneath him. He was working a case, trying to catch a serial rapist turned serial killer. He had just moved to Colby's desk to see what the agent had found when he happened to drop a file he didn't recognize. Curious, Don opened the file, not thinking anything of it. When he started to read the contents, his stomach twisted into a hard knot. He knew this wasn't just any case, but he hadn't yet identified what was so different about this one. The first page was a medical form.

_Victim: Age 30, Caucasian Male, Suffered multiple injuries: 10 broken toes, two GSW to the side and upper thigh, several burns, multiple contusions and cuts, two broken ribs, all forms of torture._

Don read the words and visibly shook. He sat down in Colby's chair, barely able to read the next words. Was this Charlie? Don already knew his brother had been burned and his toes looked like they'd been burned and broken. Charlie was 30. Could it be? Was his case file really that close to him this entire time?

The next page was a summary of what had happened during the rescue. There was a vague description and a note made explaining why it was so vague, due to few details given to them by the NSA. Upon the FBI team's arrival, the file described how there was already one man dead in the cellar, one chained, and one man shooting the chained man. An agent fired at the attacker, effectively disabling the man. However, the file continued to explain that the chained victim grabbed the gun and shot his attacker. The rest of the file was about how the victim was treated and how the agents fulfilled their duties.

Then Don looked to the bottom of the page and he felt his blood boil. At the bottom there was a list of agents involved, and in the middle of the list was Colby Granger.

Ignoring the case at hand, Don stormed away from Colby's desk, holding the file in his grip tightly. He stalked over to the break room and found Colby and David laughing by the coffee maker.

"What the hell, Granger?" Don demanded as he slammed the file on the table, and the two men flinched at their boss' voice.

"Is... is something wrong?" Colby asked timidly, though he had a feeling he knew what was going on.

"Excuse us a moment, David," Don managed to say calmly, though he felt anything but calm. Rather than letting David leave, he moved across the hall into one of the interrogation rooms, and Colby knew he would follow if he knew what was good for him.

When the door closed behind Colby, Don charged him. He grabbed the agent by his shirt and slammed him into the door behind him. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? If you have information about my brother, you tell me, damn it!"

Colby closed his eyes patiently as his back hit the door. He had been put through worse, and he knew there was no point in getting physical with his boss in return. It would only make things worse, much worse.

"I have to sit here and worry about my brother for three months when you knew long before that how he was doing! Why didn't say something?! You know how worried me and my father were! How could you do that?!"

"Don, I didn't know until I got there who we were rescuing..."

Don let go of Colby's shirt, trying to cool himself down. He took a step back. "That week you took off... your 'leave time.' That's what you were doing, wasn't it?" Don asked, suddenly putting the pieces together.

Colby nodded silently, unable to deny it.

"So you've known... for this long. And you never said a thing."

"Don, it's not like I didn't want to. The agents involved weren't just anyone. We all had either worked with the NSA before, or we worked on extremely sensitive cases. You know what I went through with Dwayne and the Chinese. That's how I got involved. I got a call, told I had no say in the matter, and I left. I honestly had no idea who we were rescuing until I saw him for myself. Secrecy was of the utmost importance, and I couldn't just tell you what had happened."

"But you knew he'd been hurt. You could have said something! You know me, Colby."

"Yeah, and I know you would have done anything you could to see him and get his location out of me," Colby bravely said, almost wincing as the words left his mouth.

Don couldn't deny the words, but that didn't mean he liked hearing them. "I wish could tell you you're wrong," Don said quietly as he rubbed his temples.

Colby swallowed hard. He never wanted to keep this from Don. He himself had been worried about Charlie, not that he would ever admit to it. It had nearly killed him to enter the cellar and find his friend so hurt. And he knew what Charlie had done. He knew that Charlie had killed the man who had tortured him. Whether justified or not, it didn't make your first kill any easier. Colby's throat clogged as he thought about his friend, and wondered why he hadn't made more of an effort to see Charlie since he'd returned.

"Tell me what you know," Don ordered plainly.

Colby took a deep breath. "We weren't told why we were there, or who we were rescuing. We had one NSA agent with us, but he wouldn't give us anything either, of course. We took a plane ride, were briefed quickly about our objective, and then we moved in. When we got there, Charlie was being held captive and we could hear gunshots. We had no other choice but to go in, and Charlie had been shot. I managed to shoot his attacker in the arm, you know to keep him from shooting and still keep him alive. But Charlie..."

Don's stomach dropped. That meant it was true. Charlie had taken a life. "He killed him."

Colby nodded. "Yeah. I don't think he knew I was there. After that he went into shock, was completely catatonic. We had to carry him out, then a helicopter took him to a nearby hospital. That was the last I saw of him. I had to fill out a report, but that was the last I dealt with it. I was back in the states shortly after."

"Where were you?"

"Can't say," Colby said, shrugging as if to say "it's not my fault."

Don nodded slowly. "I have to go."

"Don, we still have a case," Colby reminded him.

"It'll have to wait."

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Charlie was in his office when his brother barged in. Amita was sitting at one of his tables, working on her laptop. They were both working on Don's case. They were trying to find a pattern among the locations of each attack, as Charlie had done with his first major case with Don. He looked up when his older brother walked in, looking clearly distressed.

"Amita, can you excuse us a moment?" Don asked, skipping all pleasantries or greetings. Amita stole a glance at Charlie, then quickly left the room. She could sense something more was going on than the usual casework, so she exited without question or comment.

"Don. What's going on? Are you okay?" Charlie asked, worried about his brother. He stood from his chair, wondering what could have upset Don so much.

"I know what happened to you. How could you not tell me? You were practically killed!"

Charlie felt sick to his stomach. Don knew? How? He slowly fell back down into his chair. "Tell me what you know."

Don took a deep breath a paced the floors of his brother's office. "I know you got shot twice. I know that bastard broke all your toes, a couple of your ribs, burned you, cut you, and damn it, I know you killed him!"

Charlie paled as his brother spouted off his list of injuries. He trembled as the memories threatened to return, and the last few words hit him hard. He was a killer, and he hated himself for it.

Don watched his brother's reaction, knowing that Charlie couldn't stand what he heard. He lowered his voice and calmly walked over to his brother and sat on the edge of Charlie's desk. "Buddy, you know me. You know I hate hearing you're hurt. But how could you not tell me all this? God, you were put through hell! You should have told me."

"I haven't been thinking about it myself, so I can't see any reason for me to have to tell you about it. Don, I've basically been cutting that part of my life out. Obviously, it hasn't been working very well, but I can't go back there. I don't want to think about it, I don't want to remember it. If there were a way to cut that part of my brain out, trust me, I would. Just... I don't want to remember it." Charlie's voice was resigned, tired.

"Charlie, I... I know you want to forget about it, but you _have_ to talk about this. I don't see any other way for you to get over this, Buddy." Don leaned forward, as if to touch Charlie.

Charlie pushed farther away from Don. "No. I'm sick of this. I don't want you to think about it anymore. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. Every damn day I spend in fear. I sit here in my office and if I don't have a clear view of the door, I feel the hairs raise on my neck, like I'm being watched. I'm 30 years old, Don, and I sleep with the light on! I don't feel _safe_ anymore, and I haven't for months now. And it's because I have to remember what happened to me. I'm sick of it, Don. I just want to forget the whole thing and move on."

Don watched his brother, understanding his hurt. He just didn't understand how Charlie could want to cut that part of his life out. He knew it had to have been horrible, but it had to have changed him. You can't take that away. "Charlie, please... you shot someone. You have to talk-"

"Killed, Don. I didn't just _shoot_ someone. I _killed _someone."

"Who was he?" Don asked, hoping to get his brother to open up more.

"He was the bastard who told me he killed you, and nearly killed me."

Don nodded, assuming as much already. "Why did you do it?"

Charlie rolled his eyes as he stood fast. "Are you _serious_? Don, he killed you! I had no way of knowing that he didn't! He was ready to kill me, and he would have if I gave him another chance. There was no way I was going to live my life in fear, knowing he was still alive and out there."

Don watched his brother, surprised at the strength and anger behind his words.

"Enough questions," Charlie interrupted with a raised hand before Don could speak. "I want to know how in the hell you found out anything about this."

Don actually felt guilty, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Well, I have something that you don't seem to know... Colby was there. He was one of the agents who rescued you."

Charlie mouth hung open in surprise. "Colby?"

"Yeah. I was surprised to. He told me he didn't think you realized it."

"I didn't... I didn't know any of the agents who saved me. I have no memory even of what they looked like. It was just like I had to keep fighting and fighting and fighting. Then, finally, they came, I killed him, and I was safe. I didn't have to keep fighting anymore."

"You went into shock."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I didn't speak for days. I just nodded, shook my head, grunted, whatever. They put a feeding tube in me because I was so malnourished when I got there, and then I couldn't bring myself to eat after that. I tried at first, and I inhaled the food so much it made me sick. I couldn't eat after that. I just laid in bed, trying to sleep when I could. I didn't say anything until Bob came to see me. I only talked to him then because I wanted to know what they had done with your body. I... I was running through my head how I was going to tell Dad what happened to you, how I was going to deal with another funeral. And I wondered what I was going to do about working for the FBI. Without you, the idea seemed pretty laughable. I mean, you were the only reason I started working with the FBI. I thought about how hard it would have been for me, to try to go there and work with your team, and not have you there. No wonder I didn't eat." Charlie managed a rough laugh. "I had nothing else on my mind, to be honest. It hit me later that I had actually killed someone. But I was on enough medication that I didn't feel any pain, so that didn't bother me. Well, I didn't feel any pain compared to how much I'd been through."

Don felt his heart actually hurt for his brother. He couldn't imagine what all Charlie had put up with. The images and the thoughts that Charlie described were enough to break any strong man.

"The other day," Charlie started to say, licking his lips. "It really hit me, you know? I had taken a life. Me, who has always been against any violence. I don't keep a gun around. I don't get in fights. And I shot someone. Shot and killed. It might be justified, Don, but I just felt so _dirty._ I actually took a shower when it hit me. I couldn't scrub the feeling off, though. It just wouldn't wash away."

Don nodded. "I know, Buddy. It's never easy. It just gets harder every time. You just... start to get numb after a while. But it's never easy, no matter who it is."

"I don't want to give it the chance to get easier. I never want to do that again. But you have to know, when it comes to you and Dad, I would do anything. I know you're the agent, Don, and it's your job to protect people. But I would do anything to keep you guys safe."

"I know, Buddy. I can see that."

Charlie gave his brother a small smile. It was true. He would do anything for his family. He just wanted them to be safe. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, because he couldn't imagine life without them. Selfish or not, Charlie didn't care. He was going to do the best he could to protect his family from anything he could.

"I should, uh, probably get back to work," Don said, a little hesitantly. He really hated to leave his brother, especially now that he had finally gotten him talking. However, the case he was working on really did need his attention. He'd spent too much time away from the office as it was.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, no problem." Don smiled, surprised at his brother's question. He headed out the door and Charlie trailed close behind. Don waited at the doorway, and placed his arm across his brother's shoulders when Charlie caught up to him.

Don and Charlie talked only about the case on the way back to the FBI offices. Charlie felt much more comfortable with the conversation. He was glad to share some information with his brother, and he knew Don did, too. But he still wanted to move past it, and he wasn't going to get there by dwelling on the past.

The brothers arrived at the FBI office and rode up on the elevator together. Charlie felt kind of awkward coming by without any actual developments, but he could always bounce ideas off the agents. And data was more data, and that would be an improvement to his work as well. When they got to Don's floor, Don immediately left his brother's side and went to his team to get caught up on any new developments. Charlie's attention, however, was taken by a certain agent sitting in the break room.

Charlie pushed through the break room door and saw Colby raise his head from reading the sports section of the _LA Times _and drinking a cup of coffee. "Whiz Kid! What's up, man?"

"Not much, Colby. How are you?" Charlie asked, trying to act normal.

"Ah, sleep deprived, but aren't we all? So what brings you by? Got any new analogies you have to share?" Colby teased, smiling broadly.

Charlie smiled at the joke. "No, nothing like that. I, uh, I actually came by to talk to you."

Colby's smile faded, feeling this was going to be serious. "Sit down, man. You want some coffee or something?"

"No, I'm fine." Charlie shakily sat down.

Colby gave him a supportive smile. "So what's up?"

"Don just told me about you. About how you were there when I was rescued."

Colby nodded, his face a mask of seriousness. "Yeah, I was there."

"I just... I wanted to thank you, Colby. I honestly had no idea you were there. I don't know any of the agents who saved me. I wish I did so I could thank them all. But the idea that you were there... Colby, I can't ever thank you enough."

Colby smiled proudly. "It's okay, man. It is my job, you know."

Charlie managed a smile, though he felt more like crying. "I know, and you're doing a hell of a job."

Colby laughed. "Well, coming from Professor Whiz Kid, I'll take that as a compliment."

Charlie laughed too, but it faded quickly. "Colby, do you... do you remember what I did right after you came in to get me?"

Colby nodded, his laugh and smile faded again as well. "Yeah, I remember. I've never seen you like that."

"Did I... did I do the right thing?" Charlie wasn't sure why Colby's opinion of what he did mattered so much, but he figured it had something to do with the fact that Colby had actually witnessed the act.

Colby leaned forward. "Charlie, you had every right to do what you did. That man was nothing but scum, the worst kind of scum. I saw how you looked down there, and, trust me, I was ready to do the same. You have no reason to regret that decision, Charlie. He would have done it to someone else if he ever got away. He was that kind of a person."

Charlie gave his friend a small smile, but he still didn't feel comforted. He knew he did the right thing. In his heart, he knew that. He could definitely feel right in his decision. But he still couldn't get how _wrong_ the act of killing was out of his head. It would never be truly right to kill someone, in his mind at least.

"Thank you, Colby. For everything... you've been a great friend."

Colby smiled, and waved the comment off. "Ah, no big deal. You've done your share of things for me, too. Remember that case with that maze you guys had to take me on? You had me covered that time."

Charlie smiled. "I'm glad I could help."

Colby stood and slapped Charlie on the back. "I'm here if you need me, Whiz Kid."

"I know. Thanks."

Colby left the break room and went back to his desk. Charlie watched him go and shook his head. Though Colby could be immature and act pretty goofy, Charlie new he was one of the bravest men he knew. Charlie shook his head. Sometimes heroes came in unlikely packages.

David slipped through the door, barely noticing Charlie at first. He did a double-take and saw Charlie sitting at the table. "Hey, Charlie. How's it going?"

Charlie smiled. "It's going good, David. How about you?"

"I'm getting by, just trying to finish this case up."

"Yeah, I hear you. I know how that goes."

David smiled. "I bet you do. Don's here if you were looking for him."

Charlie shook his head. "No, I came here with him. I just wanted to stop by and see how things were going with you guys."

"It's going good. We could use one of your equations here soon, though. It seems like we keep hitting dead ends."

"I'll make sure you get that soon. The computers are running through the locations. Hopefully we'll have more information soon."

"That'd be great, man. Thanks."

"No problem." Charlie left the break room and went back to Don. He, Megan, and Colby were gathered around their desks, discussing the case.

"Hey, Charlie! How are you? I haven't seen you in a while," Megan said cheerfully when she saw the professor make his way over.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Your brother was just catching me up on the latest information on the case. How's the math going?"

Charlie smiled. "I'll have something for you guys soon."

"I don't want to rush you or anything, but we could really use something right about now."

"So I've heard." Charlie smiled as he looked at Colby, then David, who was coming over with a cup of coffee in his hands.

Charlie sat at his brother's desk while the agents moved around, going from computer to computer to look up things, making phone calls, and collaborating with other agents. Everyone was back at the desks when David suddenly brought something new up.

"You know, two of the victims do have a connection. They both went to MIT and were in a group called Student Activists for Change, headed by Jose Romero in 1996. Think that could mean anything?"

Charlie turned his head so fast his neck popped. Hearing the name, his eyes sought his brother's. Don somehow knew his brother would look to him. They locked eyes for a brief moment, and Charlie promptly ran away from the desks and into the men's restroom.

**Oooh, a bit of a cliffhanger, huh? Things are going to start coming together. I know that group name is really lame. LOL I hate coming up with that stuff. I always feel dumb. I hope that helps, though, and I hope this added twist helped spice things up. I start school again Monday, but I hope it won't take over too heavily for a few weeks. Thanks for reading this far! More to come ASAP!**


	13. That's Not Ketchup

Don had a sick feeling in his stomach... and that was before he opened the door to the men's restroom and found his baby brother retching in a stall. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about the way Charlie made eye contact with him. There was something about Charlie's reaction to David's information that told him there was something wrong. He had a feeling it had something to do with his capture, but Don couldn't be sure. He didn't have enough time to dwell on it because his brother needed him. So Don entered the restroom, following close behind his brother.

"Don?" Charlie questioned after the initial retching subsided. There was nothing but silence, but he could see the black dress shoes sticking out at that bottom of the stall. He had a feeling that wasn't just anyone, considering the other two stalls were open.

"Right out here, Buddy."

Charlie nodded, though he wasn't sure why since Don obviously couldn't see him. He turned back toward the toilet, about to get up when his stomach heaved once more.

Don winced at the sound of his brother retching again. He silently willed it to stop, and soon his brother flushed the toilet and left the stall. Wobbly on his feet, Don reached out and helped support Charlie as he washed his hands and rinsed out his mouth at the sinks. Don waited patiently for Charlie and when he was ready, they stepped out of the restroom together, and found three pairs of eyes focused directly on them.

"Charlie? Are you okay?" Megan was the first to speak, taking a step forward.

Charlie just shook his head in response. The three agents shared a look, and Don kept his eyes on his brother. Charlie knew they needed an explanation. He knew that, but he wasn't sure how he was going to give it.

"It's okay, Buddy. You don't have to tell us anything," Don said, though it went against everything he was feeling. He wanted an explanation. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know what it had to do with Charlie and his case with the NSA. He wanted to know those things, but most of all, he wanted his brother to be okay.

"No, I do. You guys have done enough for me. I should at least be able to explain this to you."

The room was silent, except for the sound of Charlie taking in deep breaths. When Charlie opened his mouth to speak, all bodies leaned forward, eager to hear what he had to say. Don actually took a step closer to his brother.

"I know Jose Romero, or knew I guess. We went to MIT together. I was apart of that group, Student Activists for Change. We were close. Jose... died recently. I guess it just hit me."

Megan's eyes softened and David and Colby smiled sympathetically. Don reached out and rubbed his brother's shoulder.

"Thank you, Charlie, for sharing that with us. If you need to talk or anything, you know I'm here," Megan said kindly as she took a step closer to Charlie as she reached out a gentle hand to grasp one of Charlie's clammy ones.

"No problem," Charlie mumbled.

Colby and David turned to their work, allowing the professor a moment of weakness.

"Excuse us, guys," Don said, sending them all a fake smile that they somehow bought.

Charlie let his brother lead him to the elevator. His mind was not on Don, but on Jose. If it had been before his case for the NSA and he heard the name, it would have sparked something, but not the reaction he just had. Don knew this, same as Charlie did. As the elevator doors opened, Don pushed Charlie the rest of the way in.

The ride down the elevator was silent. Charlie slumped against the walls of the elevator, holding onto the railing for deal life. He felt shaky after losing what little food he'd had that day. His legs were turning to Jell-o and it was making him nervous. Don stayed a far distance away, but Charlie could feel his eyes on him. He knew Don was watching, staring. It left him feeling uncomfortable and he felt on display. When claustrophobia started to sink in, the doors finally opened and he made a quick dash out of the elevator.

Charlie didn't know where Don wanted to go, but he chose Don's car. He stopped outside the car, only having to wait a moment before his brother walked up behind him and let him in. Charlie sat in the front seat, his head ducked low. He fiddled with his seat belt, a poor distraction from the emotions raging inside him.

Don didn't know what to think about Charlie. He could see his brother was seriously disturbed by what had happened. It had left him shaky and unstable, two things that got Don's big brother side going haywire. He felt the need to protect Charlie when he acted like that. But when he didn't know who the monsters were, he couldn't really fight away the demons. Playing off his brother's emotions, Don pulled out of the FBI parking garage and drove away, stopping shortly after at a small park.

Charlie got out of the car before he noticed where they were. He looked around for the first time. He managed a small smile. He'd always loved the park. There was so much math in parks, he could see it everywhere, in the swings, the slide, the pieces of mulch. It was everywhere. However, this time he completely ignored the math, and went straight to the water's edge. Charlie sat Indian style by the small pond. He had always found water soothing. The koi pond was a main refuge for him, one he went to often. As Larry once said, he goes to contemplate the koi pond. This pond was no different, just on a larger scale and had an entirely different variety of fish.

Don followed his brother at a slower pace, taking the time to hang back so he could observe Charlie a moment. He only noticed the hopelessness in his eyes. He saw the fear still mingling beneath the surface, ready to escape. Charlie had changed, and Don could plainly see it now. It wasn't temporary anymore. It had set in, taken root, and he was changed because of the outcome.

Charlie raised his head as his brother walked up behind. Don sat down beside him, keeping a safe distance so Charlie could have his personal space. Charlie appreciated the gesture, though in ways he longed for physical contact. It had been one of the strangest things since he'd been away. Contact had become something he either despised or desired. One minute a touch on the shoulder could shake him to his core. Other times, it would be just what he needed to steady himself. Don's hand had delivered both fear and security. With Don's current demeanor, Charlie longed for the feeling of security.

"Who was he?" Don asked, and Charlie knew he didn't mean what was Jose's name.

"He was a friend. We took a few classes together at MIT. I was finally finding my comfort zone by then and he was part of it. We worked outside of class, compared theories. We were pretty close then. When I graduated, we lost touch. I just found out recently form a mutual friend that he died."

Don saw Charlie's eyes shift, his only tell. Don had known his brother long enough to know when he was flat out lying to him. The idea bothered him.

"How did he die?"

Charlie had to think a moment, confirming what Don already knew.

"Charlie, tell me what's really going on."

Charlie felt shaky. Don could tell that easily? It scared Charlie and it made his stomach sick. His hands found their way into the grass and he took handfuls of it and began pulling them out nervously.

"Charlie?"

Charlie didn't know what to say. Didn't know what he could say. He wanted to tell his brother, because if there were anyone in the world who he'd want to tell, it'd be Don. But no matter what he wanted, somethings he couldn't do.

But this he had to.

"It was him..."

With one simple line, Don knew exactly what his brother meant. He had to hold himself in check, pushing his anger down. So that was the son of a bitch? The one who had nearly murdered his brother through torture?

"I know what you're thinking. He got what was coming to him." Charlie spoke softly. His emotions were running wild. He didn't need Don to fuel the fire.

"So that's why you were upset?" Don was proud of himself for how normal his voice sounded. He didn't expect to be so successful. He figured the anger or fear would surface and Charlie would surely hear.

"I never expected to hear that name again, even from my own mouth."

Don nodded in understanding. Charlie shivered and Don reached out to place his arm over his brother's shoulders. He knew it wasn't because of the cold his little brother shook, but it didn't stop Don from providing a little warmth.

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Charlie got out of his class and couldn't believe how good it felt to get back into the swing of things. He was finally teaching classes again, and his life actually felt somewhat normal. He set his books down at his desk and turned to his chalkboards immediately. Don still needed help, so he wanted to keep working the case. His fingers moved quickly as he held the chalk to the board. He loved the smell. He loved the feel. There wasn't much about the chalk Charlie didn't like. He even loved the sound of the chalk scratching against the board, even when the sound could pierce his ears. This was home to him. There was no safer haven than being here, a piece of chalk in his hands.

Too bad chalk wasn't as safe as a Kevlar vest.

Charlie turned the music on his laptop loud. He didn't have office hours, so he was just there to work on this case. He didn't think anyone would mind the music. It was getting late anyway, and most professors had cleared out by that time. After he'd been working for almost an hour, he reached for his mug of tea, now turned to "iced" tea after sitting out all day. Taking a long gulp, he downed the last of it. It wasn't long after that he felt the pain in his stomach grow.

Charlie held his stomach, moaning.

"Oh, God!" he cried out, sweating as the pain ripped through his stomach. He fell to the floor, holding his stomach. He needed desperately to reach the phone, but his cell phone and office phone were both on his desk, which seemed an impossible distance. The very movement of trying to sit up sent shards of glass through his abdomen, from the inside out. So he lay there on the floor, near tears as the sharp ache in his stomach continued.

Don was just planning on visiting his brother. He did need information on the case, but he was genuinely concerned about Charlie. He was going to stop in to see how he was doing. The last he had seen him was the day in the park. It had only been a few days, but Don still felt guilty for not coming by sooner. Charlie hadn't said much more to him about Jose, but Don had quietly done his own research on the man, if you could honestly call him a man. The file had been locked, and Don wasn't very surprised.

When Don arrived at CalSci, he could hear his brother's music blaring from the other end of the hall. The White Stripes were unmistakable and he had to smile. Leave it to Charlie to have the music blaring. Charlie was still years younger than all the other CalSci professors, unless you include Amita. Other professors were at least five years older, but Charlie was way ahead of them in intelligence. Maybe Don was a bit biased, but he knew it was a fact as well.

Don knocked on Charlie's office door, laughing to himself as he thought of the absurdity of it. Charlie didn't hear him knock when the room was dead silent. Why would he hear now? He pushed open the door and felt a twinge of concern when Charlie wasn't standing at one of the desks. He didn't even have time to look around when he heard Charlie call his name from the floor.

"Charlie!" Don rushed behind Charlie's desk where his brother lay. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his brothers shaking so hard he was hitting the floor violently. He was nearly in the fetal position as he grasped his stomach and moaned.

"Don... help me." The words were barely a whisper as Charlie forced the words out of his mouth. Don's heart raced at the words, or, rather, the tone of Charlie's voice. The fear and pain were more than evident. He didn't know what happened, had no clue what was going on. He just knew his brother was in serious pain and he needed help, fast.

Don knelt on the floor and held his brother in place, staying the shaking as best as he could. Charlie convulsed as though having a seizure and his eyes closed against the pain.

"Oh, no," Charlie whimpered and before he could make another move, his stomach violently purged and he retched all over the floor.

Don took out his cell phone after a moment of staring in shock at the vomit on the floor. It was tinted red, and Don knew there was no way that Charlie had eaten anything that color. It was unmistakably blood, and he felt even more concern at the sight.

Charlie cried out in pain as the contents left his stomach. "Donny..." the word was hard to understand as he said it. His throat burned and he could only think of the pain as if he had swallowed crunched up glass.

"Sh, Charlie. It's going to be okay." Don finally found his voice as he soothed his little brother. He tried to smooth the lines on Charlie's furrowed brow and forehead. The phone was glued to his ear as he eagerly waited on the operator. After what seemed like forever, the operator answered. Before he was off the phone, Charlie began to cry from the ache in his stomach and throat. Don's stomach did flip flops at the sight. He'd seen his brother cry before, but never like this. He'd never hurt so bad like this. It was driving his big brother radar crazy and it was all he could do not to leave to catch the first unlucky man to pass his way. His fists actually ached to hit something. Don tried to force that part down and focus solely on his brother.

"Donny... it hurts," Charlie whimpered. His stomach jerked again and Don held him back from going headfirst into his own vomit. Nothing came up this time, or so Don thought. Charlie felt the bile and it was enough to slice him in half. Charlie screamed with his mouth closed and Don nearly died at the sound. There was no sound more horrid, nothing more pitiful and agony-filled. Don wrapped and arm around Charlie's chest and held his brother against his bent legs underneath him. Charlie managed to grasp one of Don's hands while the other continued to cover his stomach.

"Make it stop, Don. Please," Charlie begged, his voice raspy at best.

"It'll stop. An ambulance is on the way. You're going to be all right. I promise, Buddy."

Don pressed down on Charlie's shoulders when the shaking began again. Charlie's tears came harder as his body bucked and his stomach tried to purge its contents once more. He moaned and Don knew his brother well enough to know the moan was meant to be Don's name.

"I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you. You're going to be all right. I promise."

Charlie nodded, though he barely believed it himself. His insides felt like fire and he longed for something to cool it. Remembering the tea, he pointed up to his desk.

"What? What do you need, Buddy?" Don was eager to help in anyway.

"T..." Charlie managed.

Don looked around the desk and found the coffee mug. He picked it up, but when he looked inside, there was only a filmy residue inside. He sniffed it, and he knew that wasn't what it was supposed to be.

"Charlie, did you drink this?"

Charlie nodded. He weakly reached up for the cup, but Don held it away from him and Charlie whimpered in response.

"I'm sorry, Buddy. There's nothing in it." Don didn't want to worry Charlie just yet.

The EMTs came rushing into the room shortly after and started assessing Charlie. Don pulled one of them aside briefly told him what he suspected. Hearing the severity of what could be, the EMTs took him away quickly and brought him to the hospital. When they took Charlie back and away from Don, he took out his cell phone and made yet another call.

And it wasn't to Alan.

"Director Thompkins? This is Don Eppes. We have a problem... I think Charlie's been poisoned."

**Dun dun duh!! LOL What a cliffhanger! I'm finally back to this story! YAY! I'm sorry it's taken so long. Time flies! I hope you'll all come back to me and read the rest of this story. There's still a lot of ground to cover, and this opens up the second part of the story. So stay tuned! More to come! Please review! Thanks!**


	14. Brother in Arms

**Again, not a doctor, not an expert. If you know better, let me know. Just another fanfic license I decided to take. LOL Thanks! And, just to remind you, I don't own Numb3rs, etc.**

Charlie woke up to a feeling he could only associate with one of those crazy circus people who swallow fire to entertain. He couldn't remember volunteering his own protection to do something so insane, but he couldn't remember anything ever hurting like this before. It had to be that, right? Some cruel twist of fate?

But then Charlie opened his eyes and he knew his assumption was way off. His memory came back to him. He was in the hospital. Charlie could see his brother and father waiting patiently in the corner, both half asleep. Charlie was to stay in the hospital another day to watch for infections and so he could receive more fluids intravenously. His throat was badly burned by the substance that had been in his tea. It was believed to be some type of caustic substance, like a toilet bowl cleaner. The substance had left his esophagus and stomach burned and he was on corticosteroids and antibiotics to prevent infection. Days later, it still hurt to talk, but he was making progress one baby step at a time.

As the clarity of wakefulness came to him, the fear returned as well. Charlie didn't know what to think about this poisoning. It could have been a student. It could have been a colleague. It could have been a random attack. It could have been related to the FBI case he was currently working on.

The other option was the one that terrified him. Because it could have been related to the NSA case.

Charlie had really expected this to be over. The fear and the worry were still there, for sure. But that was different. Those problems were within him. But an attack against him? That was someone else entirely. That was an outside factor that he couldn't control, but could very well control him. Charlie listened to his monitor start speeding up and he forced himself to calm.

"Buddy? You okay?" Don asked, waking up fully when he heard his brother's monitor. It seemed to be a recurring pattern. Every time his brother woke up, the monitor would start going off faster. Don knew it wasn't a technical issue.

Charlie nodded. He wanted desperately to reassure his brother with words, but it seemed every time he tried to speak to his brother, Don would make him stop. It didn't make much sense to Charlie, considering Don was the one who asked him the most questions.

"Just one more day and you can get out of here, okay?" Don smiled, trying to be cheerful and reassuring to his brother.

Charlie smiled and nodded. He couldn't wait. He hated being on display. Bob Thompkins had tried to question him, but Don had kicked him out. Don had been by his side every second he was allowed. Alan was there the majority of the time, and both of them seemed to just stare at Charlie, like something might change. It was as if they were making sure they wouldn't miss one blink, one toss or turn. Charlie was getting sick of it.

Don scooted over closer to his brother to avoid waking his father. "We're going to find out who did this, Charlie. I promise. You're safe, okay?"

Though Don usually preferred a more proactive approach, this time he had assigned himself to watching his brother. Of course that wasn't to say he wouldn't send someone else to if he wanted to go out in the field. But this time Don stayed at the hospital and watched his brother, instead of hunting down who had done it. He really wanted to keep an eye on his brother, and not just for his physical well being. There was so much more at stake here, and Don didn't want just anyone in there taking care of Charlie.

"D-on..."

"Don't talk, Buddy."

Charlie shook his head harshly. "Don, I... trust you.... I know... you... will."

Don smiled at his brother's confidence. Charlie smiled in return until a coughing fit brought tears to his eyes. Don sat up, wanting to do something, but he wasn't sure what. He just rubbed his brother's back, willing the coughing to subside. Charlie only coughed a few times, but it was enough to leave him aching and tired. He leaned on the bed closest to his brother. Don brushed his brother's hair back as Charlie closed his eyes as he lay down weakly. Charlie barely smiled as he felt his brother's hand smooth his hair down.

"Thanks... for being here."

Don smiled. "Where else would I be?"

Charlie could think of enough places that would be more important than here. He really didn't feel like his brother needed to be baby-sitting him, but Charlie knew that it was a precaution Don found necessary. Either way, Charlie appreciated what his brother did for someone as insignificant as him.

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Before Charlie was released from the hospital, the doctor came in for one last exam. Alan and Don waited by the front desk in the waiting room for Charlie to come out. The doctor took a quick look inside Charlie's mouth, gave him a prescription for antibiotics, and then was on his way. Charlie had just gotten dressed when the door opened. He turned around and found a stranger in his room.

"Who are... you?"

"You don't remember me?" The man laughed, and Charlie went cold. The voice was all too familiar, bringing back haunting memories of a time he'd rather forget.

"Don..." Charlie wanted to hurt himself at how weak his voice was.

The man laughed again. "That's all you've got? I need to finish what we started. I just wanted to let you know. I hope you enjoyed the tea I made you."

Again, the sinister laugh ensued. Charlie was about to attempt a scream when the man turned and left the room.

Charlie almost collapsed onto the bed. His whole body shook with fear. Stoically, he left his room and started down the hall toward his father and brother. As he left the room, he began calling to his brother.

"Don... Don... Don..." Charlie's voice was still useless. With each call, he tried to raise his voice, but it was beginning to hurt more and more. When he was almost half way down the hall, he called to his brother once more and Don somehow heard him.

Don was barely paying attention when he heard the hoarse voice of his younger brother. He turned his head, sensing something wrong. He took a moment to look at his brother and he immediately recognized that something was horribly wrong. He stood and started running toward his brother. He stopped in front of Charlie, who had stopped walking when Don started running toward him. Don reached out and grasped Charlie's shoulders, looking into his brother's eyes.

"What happened?" Don demanded.

Charlie closed his eyes. "He... he was... here."

Don's eyes flared and he quickly walked around his brother, shielding Charlie's body. Walking backwards, Don pushed Charlie to the waiting room and into the seat he'd been in. Alan was watching them as they approached, feeling concerned and quite out of the loop with what was going on.

"Who was it?" Don asked roughly.

"One... of... them."

"Them? Who?"

"The... man... who pois... pois..." Charlie couldn't get the word out as he coughed and his throat burned. Alan provided a bottle of water he had just for Charlie. Charlie took a drink to cool the burning.

"Who poisoned you?" Don provided and Charlie nodded.

"Where was he? What does he look like?"

Charlie pointed and Don understood what he meant. He began giving a description, but suddenly stopped and shook his head back and forth. Don was confused, but with one look in Charlie's eyes, he knew he had to stop. Charlie's eyes were filling with tears as the pain of talking caught up with him. He couldn't do it, not here, not now. Don nodded and brought his family out to his SUV. He gave Charlie a notepad and pen to write with and Charlie took a moment to explain further what had happened. Charlie managed a smile as he wrote, recognizing how much nicer it was to write instead of talk.

Don watched Charlie write nervous and eagerly. He needed to know what had happened so he could tell his team. On the way home, he called David to come take his place watching Charlie. He needed to act fast.

Charlie handed over the notepad, and Don quickly skimmed it as he drove. He pulled into the driveway on two wheels and saw David waiting at the front door. Don waited long enough for Charlie and Alan to exit the car, said a quick goodbye, and drove off.

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Don made it back to the hospital in half the time it took him to get home. He had a feeling the man was no longer there but he began questioning the nurses and staff, asking if they had seen him. Don knew there was no way the man was just allowed to barge right in there, so he asked the front desk. One man thought he knew him, and Don demanded to look at the surveillance tapes. He went in to the security room and watched the footage. When he found the video of the hallway that led to Charlie's room, Don took it and ran. As he left the hospital, he called Bob Thompkins again and ordered him to meet him at the FBI office in ten minutes. He didn't say anything else. Didn't give him an option. He was coming, or Don would hunt him down, and both men seemed to understand that.

Don went to his office, nearly thrust the video in Colby's hand, and demanded his team meet him in the conference room. Colby moved quickly and put the video in and then quickly moved to a chair, hunched like a kicked dog. Within minutes, Bob came to their floor and Don waved him inside. Don slammed the door behind them and faced the worried, confused, and somewhat scared faces staring at him.

"Someone is after my brother and I better damn well find him within the next 24 hours!"

Bob looked sharply at Don, afraid of what he was saying. Charlie was still in danger? Impossible!

"He's on this tape and I intend to bring him in within the next 24 hours. Any questions?"

Bob got up and took Don's arm. The team was left shaken, wondering what all had happened. They had plenty of questions, but they were left unanswered as Don was forced out of the room by Bob.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Bob hissed when they were finally alone.

"I'm thinking you screwed up! There's still someone after Charlie and he says it's from when he was working for you. So what the hell did you do this time, Thompkins?"

"That's not possible! This isn't the FBI's case. This is a matter of national security!"

"My brother is not national, director. He's one man, and one I happen to be willing to put my life on the line for willingly any day of the week. Now either you're going to help us find the bastard who hurt him, or you're going to get the hell out of my way."

Bob looked angry a moment, but Don's fury overpowered Bob's. He finally sighed and consented, willing to make it a cooperative effort between the FBI and the NSA. None of the team had clearance high enough to know the details of Charlie's assignment. Colby had the highest and since he had a professional connection to Charlie and the assignment, Bob gave him the more sensitive aspects to work on. Don wanted let in, but he knew he couldn't push. There was no way in hell he was going to get kicked off this case. This was his little brother they were talking about. It wasn't just anyone. It wasn't just any case. This was serious, and Don needed to be informed every step of the way.

Don, Colby, Megan, and Director Thompkins all worked late. Around nine o'clock, everyone but Don had cleared out. At eleven o'clock, Megan came back looking for her cell phone and found Don half asleep at his desk.

"Don? Hey." Megan came toward him, speaking gently.

"What?" Don jumped, startled. He saw Megan and he calmed down. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question. Go home, Don. Charlie needs you there, not here."

"I... I've got to catch this guy, Megan."

Megan smiled comfortingly. "I know, Don. And we will. But right now you're dead on your feet and Charlie is probably worried about you and scared stiff. Plus, David's been there all day."

"David! I completely forgot about him." Don stood from his chair and swayed on his feet, dizzy. Megan put a hand on his arm and steadied him. Don smiled his thanks.

"Go home, Don."

"I will."

Megan smiled and watched Don leave. She turned to her desk and searched for her keys, only to find them in the pocket of the coat she was wearing when Don called her minutes later to ask if she would shut down his computer.

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David knew the Eppes family well enough to feel comfortable in their home. Even so, he felt the tension in the house unnerving and definitely uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how to help Charlie. He offered kind words and gentle pats to Charlie's arms and shoulders. But nothing seemed to be helping. David tried to get Charlie to talk to him, but he realized that was a foolish idea, considering Charlie's throat was still raw. So David just kept an eye out for Charlie, watched out the window, checked on every sound, and tried not to get in the way too much.

He was relieved when Don got home.

"You can head out, David. I'll take it from here," Don said drowsily as he met David at the door.

David smiled and nodded in response. He wanted more information on the case, but he knew Don was tired, and, to be honest, he was too. So David said his good nights and left the Eppes house to head to his own apartment.

Don couldn't believe he had stayed away so long. He felt guilty for not being with Charlie all day, as he had been the past few. But he wasn't sorry he was working the case. He had many things to do to help his brother, and some times he had to choose one over the other. Don couldn't always be there by Charlie's side. Sometimes he had to put some distance between them so he could do the job he was professionally trained for, not the one he was intrinsically made to do.

"Donny, where have you been? You looked exhausted," Alan said to his oldest son.

"Hey, Dad. I've just been working on this, for Charlie."

Alan nodded. He understood Don felt he had been in the right place, but he couldn't help but wonder if Charlie would have been better off if Don had stayed. Charlie had been quiet all day, subdued, and a little jumpy. He had tried to stay in bed, but found sleep a hard thing to find, partially because of the fear and partially because David was hovering around him all day.

"Where's Charlie?" Don asked.

"He's upstairs in his room." Alan wanted to tell Don he should go to him, but Don had already started walking toward the stairs.

Charlie was laying in his bed, thinking it was finally quiet enough for him to sleep. David had left his side miraculously, so he tried to close is eyes and sleep. However, a knock on the door interrupted that idea. Charlie opened his eyes and found Don standing in the doorway. A sad smile lit up Charlie's face. He was happy his brother was there. It had been weird without him.

"You awake, Buddy?" Don asked softly.

"I'm awake," Charlie answered hoarsely.

Don smiled and turned on the lamp light on Charlie's desk. He didn't want the full light on for fear it would wake Charlie up further. But the lamp lit the room with a soft, warm glow that made it easy enough for Don to see his brother and find his way to the bed.

Charlie followed Don's movements with his eyes. Charlie waited until his brother sat on his bed before he sat up too. He continued to watch Don, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here, Charlie. I was working on catching the son of a bitch who did this to you. I hope you were okay."

Charlie nodded, but Don saw the lie immediately. It was plain as day by the tears that filled Charlie's eyes. He tried to hide them, but Don had already seen. Charlie turned his face away, and Don gently reached out and turned his brother's face back toward him.

"It's okay, Buddy. You're safe now, I promise."

Charlie knew that. It was just the fear from the day. He was never safe, never safe unless his brother was there. No one else could protect him like Don could. Charlie knew that deep in his heart. There was never any other hero. No other who would fight away the bullies, chase away the monsters under his bed. It had been true his entire life, and it was still true today. Don was the only one who could really protect him, even if the others who tried had FBI training and a gun.

"I was... so... scared."

Don's heart thumped. How could he have left Charlie for so long? It appeared that Charlie had been putting on a brave front all day, and now the dam had burst and there was nothing there to rebuild. Charlie's tears continued to fall, and Don reached out and hugged his brother tightly to him.

"Sh, sh. You're okay. I've got you."

Charlie sobbed. The man had found him so easily at the hospital, at CalSci. There was no doubt in his mind that he could find him just as easily here, in his own home. Without Don there, he had felt vulnerable and exposed. He felt like he lived in a glass house on display for all the world to see. Charlie needed his safeguard, and now he was finally here.

"Don't... leave me."

"Never, Charlie. I'd never leave. You're going to be okay. Don's here."

Charlie closed his eyes and pressed his face tightly into Don's chest. He shivered and shook, trying to feel safe by his brother's strong arms. He let himself slip away into the safety of his brother's presence and he finally found peace... and sleep.

**Who has seen the preview for next week? HOLY CRAP! I cannot WAIT. Just as a heads up, I will probably be writing a story about that episode. I would not be surprised if I got some idea from it! So if there's a delay with this story, forgive me. I'd be too blocked with an idea about that episode, though, so be on the lookout for that. I'm sure it's coming! Thanks for reading and reviewing. And thanks for whoever it was who posted a youtube video and dedicated it to me. I really appreciate it. Thanks, guys! Love ya!**


	15. The Simultaneous Breaking of Hearts

**The beginning scene is a flashback with some scary images. I haven't done a flashback lately, so I thought I'd better catch up!**

_Charlie didn't think hell was on earth, but he had somehow gotten tossed into the thick of it. Lately hell had even been accompanied by fire. So that had to be it. Somewhere in his life he had done something to deserve hell over heaven and now he was stuck. There was no getting out, and the demons who surely worked for the devil were back to administer more burning pain._

_Charlie was blindfolded, as usual. It had begun to hurt his eyes. He could barely blink his eyes for the blindfold was so tight. It was a small pain to bear, though, compared to his list of many other injuries. Today he heard Jose's men enter the room, and he felt his stomach turn. He had been immobile while he tried to allow the burns on his feet and legs to heal. It was causing so much agony the only sleep he got was the sleep brought on by exhaustion. Charlie's tears were quickly dried by the fabric of the blindfold, and he was thankful that the men couldn't see them._

_"Hey, dirtbag!" one of the men shouted as he entered the room. He kicked Charlie's shin, and Charlie cried out, screaming. He managed to stand on aching legs and tried to move. One of his arms was quickly grabbed and then the other. Charlie struggled. He wiggled, he squirmed. He pulled and pushed, anything he could to try to escape. The hands holding him slammed him into the wall in front of him and he felt his nose get smashed. He tried to prevent the blow and managed to hit his cheek instead. Tears came to his eyes at the injury to his sinuses. Fearful, he tried to go limp, hoping somehow it would help._

_Charlie's captors just lifted him up and set him face-down on a cot of some sort. He whimpered softly as one of his hands was tied to a leg of the cot. Then the other was tied._

_Charlie had to bite back a sob as his burned legs and feet made contact with the cot. It stung worse than before, but he trusted that the cot was cleaner than the floor he'd been laying on before. Charlie couldn't wrap his head around what was happening to him. This wasn't supposed to be a danger for him. He had never been a part of this life. He had wanted it after his brother had joined the FBI. It was a part of the whole, "Anything you can do I can do better" mentality. But with age and acquired wisdom, Charlie realized that Don was better than him, and that was okay. Don needed to be better at some things. Charlie knew now how hard it had been for Don growing up, always in his little brother's shadow. Charlie had had no idea at the time, and would have done anything to change it then. Now, as their jobs seemed to coincide, Charlie wished he had more control over the little brother in him._

_Charlie couldn't remember ever needing his brother more. He realized that Don was his safety net, always had been. The years they spent so far apart, Charlie hated. He hated not being in touch with his brother. He craved some sort of communication and thrived off of every phone call, every email. They were rare occurrences, but they were what Charlie wanted most. Don had become more than just a hero to his kid brother; he had become a hero to his community, his country. Charlie couldn't be prouder... and he couldn't imagine needing Don more now than ever._

_Thoughts of the end raced through his mind, like all the days before. Charlie knew deep down that the end was coming. He didn't know when or how, but he knew that he would not survive this. The idea was enough to make him indifferent to the pain and torture he was put through. If he was going to die anyway, it didn't matter. Eventually every blow would add up to the sum of his death. It didn't make him feel any better, but he comforted himself with the idea that if he died, he would die without ever giving Jose any information._

_Charlie struggled against the binds that held him to the cot. His wrists burned from being tied so much. His hands felt numb as the blood was cut off . He struggled until he heard Jose's order to his men. Charlie winced at just the thought. Jose ordered the men to hold Charlie down to the cot. As the two men pushed down, Charlie cried inwardly as the pain settled in._

_"Have anything you want to tell us today?" Jose asked Charlie, walking to the head of the cot to face Charlie._

_Charlie didn't even answer him with a "no." He would not waste his breath on Jose when he knew his number of breaths was becoming very limited._

_"Hold him down steady. He'll be thrashing around a lot."_

_Charlie's heart did somersaults as he heard the statement. He could only imagine what was next on the list of tortures Charlie had to endure. He clenched his teeth in a feeble attempt to lock all the screams inside. He closed his eyes as he heard Jose approaching. The unknown was what scared him the most. If he knew what was about to happen, he could prepare himself. But never knowing was what was driving him insane._

_"Now." The one word shook Charlie to the core. Jose's men pushed down hard on Charlie and he could hardly contain the howls that threatened to escape. The only pain he felt now was the agony of having his burned body pushed roughly into the cot. The pressure was enough to make him feel like he was going to pass out. But then the unthinkable happened, and Charlie was positive he had found hell on earth._

_Jose lifted the edge of Charlie's tattered shirt and exposed Charlie's lower back. He picked up a clothing iron, fully heated, and pressed it to the skin, holding it down like he was trying to iron Charlie's skin, effectively removing the curves of his back._

_Charlie couldn't hold back the tears. His mouth opened and it was like the ghost of his every tear, sob, and scream escaped. His world turned upside down as he saw a cascade of colors and stars. He was teetering on the edge of madness, and unconsciousness was just too far out of his reach. Charlie pulled, pushed, tugged, and strained in every way he could to get the two men off him. He sobbed against the torment. His body barely moved against their pressure, only allowing the iron to touch him again and again. The searing pain was excruciatingly hard to bear._

_"PLEASE! STOP!" Charlie screamed, the first time he ever asked them to stop. Now, he was at the point where he would beg for death, if only to run away from the purgatory he was trapped in. His senses were ignited to the point where a mere whisper felt like the heat of the bluest flame. His eyes were dampened with salty tears that only added to his thirst. There was no escaping this hell hole. Too bad Jose was the one playing the devil's role but was confused into thinking he was God._

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Charlie jumped, startled out of sleep. Don still had his arms around his brother, even in sleep. With Charlie's waking, he reacted with a mighty shove, pushing Charlie off the bed. Charlie shrieked in surprise and scrambled to catch himself. He managed to reach out with his hands and barely broke the fall.

Don was breathing sharply as he sat up, adrenaline coursing through him as he expected some fight about to break out. When he realized his brother was lying on the floor and why, he quickly stood up.

"Charlie! I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Don looked down at his brother, fearful he had hurt his brother worse.

"I'm okay," Charlie choked out, breathless. The wind had been knocked out of him by his fall. His chest hurt from the impact, and he wondered how he was going to move.

Don quickly answered the question for him by wrapping his arms around Charlie's stomach and pulling him to his feet.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Don searched his brother's face as he lowered Charlie so that his brother was leaning against his bed. Don studied Charlie's face diligently, looking for any signs of pain.

"I think so. It... just startled me." Charlie managed a smile for his brother, hoping it was enough to appease Don.

"What happened, Buddy? I didn't mean to push you, but you startled me first." Don chuckled uncomfortably.

"Just a dream." Charlie said it with a tone that made it seem he was convincing himself it was just a dream. It didn't sound like an answer to Don's question. Don picked up on that and softened toward his brother.

"What about?"

Charlie gave his brother a look that told him he should already know. Don nodded his confirmation as a silent conversation passed between the brothers.

Little did Charlie know, he was about to face something far worse than anything his mind could conjure up in sleep.

"You want to talk about it?" Don asked, already knowing the answer.

Charlie shook his head. "I want breakfast."

Don smiled. "I think we can manage that."

Charlie and Don went downstairs to eat breakfast, expecting Alan to be in the kitchen cooking. When they didn't find him there, Don got worried. It wasn't like their father not to be there.

"Where could he be?" Don asked. He walked toward the front windows, seeing the car in the driveway. "He hasn't left the house. Must just be tired. I'll go check."

Charlie nodded. "Okay. I'll start some eggs. How's that sound?"

"Sure. Boiled?"

"Sure thing." Charlie smiled. He already knew how his brother liked his eggs. He knew his father liked them over easy. Don liked them boiled. Charlie liked them scrambled. Taste in eggs weren't something they had in common.

Don went upstairs to their father's room. He knocked before entering, wondering what was taking him so long. "Dad?" he called before entering.

When Don opened the door, he squinted in the dark light. He flipped the switch and found Alan's bed empty. Concerned, he went to his father's personal bathroom. The door was barely cracked. He opened it the rest of the way and found his father in the bathtub, but not in any normal position.

Alan's hands were tied to the shower head, his mouth covered with duct tape. When he saw his oldest son, his eyes widened in panic and relief. He was panicked for fear that the man who had attacked him was still in the house. And he was relieved because he thought maybe that Don had caught the man and that's why he had come.

Unfortunately, his first assumption was correct.

"Dad! What happened?" Don tore the duct tape off his father's face, wincing with his father at the pain it caused.

"Go to Charlie! He's after Charlie!" Alan urged his son to move. He didn't care about his own safety. His sons were what mattered.

With a moment of hesitation, Don left his father. He ran to his room, grabbed his gun, and ran back downstairs. Ignoring his training and experience with the FBI, Don called for his brother, hoping he could warn him before he was attacked. He wondered what had happened to the agent guarding the house, and wondered when he had let his guard down long enough to let his family become endangered while he just slept.

Charlie had gone to the refrigerator, as usual, and pulled out the carton of eggs. He was about to get a pan to cook with when a hand closed around his mouth. Charlie screamed against the hand as he elbowed, kicked, and pulled.

"Not a word," the man whispered, and Charlie recognized it at once. It was him, the same man who had helped torture him. The same man who had poisoned him, threatened him. He was here, in his home, where his family was.

His family. How could Charlie have forgotten about them so easily? Was that why Alan hadn't come down? What had he done to him?

A gun was pressed against Charlie's throat, and he shivered at the remembrance. He had been here before. It was an all too familiar position for Charlie, and he wished that he could change that.

"If you scream, I will shoot whoever gets down here first. Then, I'll shoot the other one. Got it?"

Charlie's heart raced to the point he feared cardiac arrest. How could this be happening? He had to be asleep still. There was no way this was happening. Not again.

Charlie complied to the man's wishes. He kept his mouth shut, and he went limp against him. He moved every time the man pushed him on. He followed every move and every step. Charlie was resigned to the fact that this time would be the end. There would be no coming out of this, and he knew this time he could not fail his family. If there was anything he could do to protect them, it would be done. For now, the only way of protecting them that he knew of was to do what his captor said, even if that meant being kidnapped for the second time.

Charlie closed his eyes tightly, trying to ward off the nightmare, as he heard his brother call his name. Don was on his way. Normally, that would mean he felt safe. Normally, he would be relieved because that meant a rescue was about to ensue. But not this time. This time, all Charlie felt was fear. Don could be hurt. Don could be taken as well. He didn't know what was about to happen. The uncertainty was enough to drive a stake through his heart as he waited for his brother to appear.

"Sh, not a word." Charlie and the man moved to the corner of the kitchen, unseen by Don. The man kept his gun aimed and ready to fire at Don. Charlie's eyes widened and fixed on the end of the gun. He couldn't scream, that would mean death for Don. But he couldn't keep silent. Either option ended in death for his brother. Before he could take a breath to scream, the man held his hand against Charlie's mouth. It was no use. His scream wouldn't have made it to his brother, considering the injuries to his throat. The hand was too tightly pressed against his lips. There was no escape for his words. No room for air to pass between the fingers. Charlie just had to wait and watch for his brother to appear.

"Charlie!" Don ran and didn't hear his brother. He made it to the edge of the living room, almost to the kitchen, when he pointed his weapon to the kitchen. He took a breath, prepared, and took a step into the kitchen. As he crossed the border of kitchen to living room, he found his brother being held at gunpoint. The gun aimed at him and a shot was fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He was forced to the floor by the impact of the bullet. His head hit the leg of a chair and his vision blurred. Shaking his head to remain conscious, he looked toward his brother.

"Don!" Charlie's hoarse scream even hurt Don's throat. It was gravelly and weak, but it spoke the fear, love, and desperation that Charlie was feeling. He fought against the man who held him, and tried desperately to get the gun away from him, and pointed somewhere other than his only brother.

"Charlie..." Don said weakly. He fought to stand, fought to remain conscious. His brother was too far away. His gun was out of reach. He never felt more useless. His eyes struggled to focus on his brother and his breathing caught.

Charlie was shoved and pushed into the kitchen counter. He gasped as his ribs braced the shove and his breath was lost. Charlie was sure a rib had been broken in the process. His pain was forgotten, however, when he looked back at the gunman. His gun was aimed at his weakened brother. Charlie watched in horror and pushed off the counter. Don stared down the end of the gun, facing his death head-on, even in his injured state.

Charlie would not accept it. He had not been put through hell and back to let it end this way. His family would not take the fall for something he did. Don had already been hit, and it was enough to effectively chip away at Charlie's heart. But he would not let it go a step farther. He didn't know how badly his father was injured, but he knew what had happened to Don. Another shot would mean death for Don, Charlie knew. He knew the next shot was meant to be fatal, and he was not about to let that just happen. It wasn't something he could accept, or just stand by and watch.

As the finger hit the trigger, Charlie lunged forward, blocking the shot. He was hit in the stomach, and he doubled over a moment before he fell flat on his back, stunned.

"NO!" Don shouted, though weak. He felt like he was running, but he could barely crawl an inch farther. Charlie lay on the floor, bleeding on the tiled floor and ruining the perfect patterns. Charlie turned his head so that he could see his brother, make sure he had succeeded. When he saw Don looking at him, he knew he had done his job.

"I've had enough of this!" Juan grunted angrily, not admitting he needed more bullets. He had fired too many already, and had none left to finish the job. He would have to take Charlie elsewhere. He had not counted on so many other people. The agent outside, the father, the brother. There were too many other people. He was only after Charlie. He figured if left untreated long enough, Charlie's GSW would prove fatal. But Juan was more proactive than that. He couldn't just sit around and wait. He knew that someone had heard the shots. Chances were the FBI were on their way now. He couldn't risk it.

Charlie reached out for his brother with one hand as the other applied pressure to his wound. He figured if he could just touch Don, maybe he would wake up. Don was always the one to wake him from his nightmares, wasn't he? Then surely that would do the trick this time.

Don reached back. He needed to know his brother was okay. Charlie had taken a bullet for him. He couldn't just let it end this way. Charlie couldn't die because of him. Don could just let it happen. It took all his strength to reach across the floor toward his brother's hand.

"All right, Chuckie. It's time for us to go," Juan said as he grabbed Charlie's hand off his stomach. He used the hand to drag Charlie across the floor. Charlie cried out as his hand was removed from his stomach, leaving his wound exposed as he was moved.

Charlie and Don both reached as far as they could at the same time, and managed to grasp each other's hands. Charlie wanted so badly to just take his brother with him. He wanted the comfort of his older brother. He wanted to feel safe. He wanted to wake up. But Charlie knew there was no waking up this time. This was real life and he had no where to go to escape. It was happening again, and Don wasn't supposed to be there. The brothers locked gazes. Charlie tried to send all the love he could and tell Don everything in that one look, but he didn't know if it worked. Don looked back at his brother with panic in his eyes. He couldn't let Charlie go. He couldn't let them get away, but his strength said there was nothing he could do to stop it. Just as Don wanted to hold tighter, Charlie let go. The brothers watched each other as the gap between them grew. Charlie gave his brother one last tearful smile as his parting, as the door to the kitchen shut and Don could no longer see his brother.

Simultaneously, the brothers' hearts shattered. They could no longer see each other, no longer knew if the other one was okay. Don managed to crawl a whole foot before the blackness swallowed him into unconsciousness.

Charlie watched his house fade away as he was lifted and shoved into a car and sped away. He held his stomach weakly, trying to clot the bleeding. But he no longer really cared if he lived or died. It would only prolong the inevitable. He had seen his family for the last time and there was nothing he could do to change it. Statistically, he had been dead for a long time. Now, the statistics had caught up with him, and he couldn't change anything. Hell had found him to take him back, this time permanently.

Charlie closed his eyes against the rocking of the car and waited for death to claim him.

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Don came to with the calling of his name. Megan was pressing down hard on his wound and he screamed as he returned to consciousness. She had just entered the home and found Don lying in the kitchen, shot, unconscious, and bleeding out. There was another puddle of blood a few feet away and she wondered whose it was.

"Charlie! They took Charlie! My dad! Did you get my dad? He's upstairs! He tied him up. He's in the bathroom! Please! You have to help them!" Don said, breathless. His breathing quickened and caught. He could barely get the words out as the panic rose and his heartbeat raced.

"Someone get Alan! He's upstairs!" Megan called to make sure someone looked for him. They didn't know who was in the home. She had ordered the team in, knowing she couldn't wait another second outside. The house had been searched. She had heard the sounds of agents yelling "clear" over and over, but she had found Don, called for the medic. She was there when he came to, and the sight of his brown eyes was enough to give her hope.

"Please, Megan! We have to go after them. He took Charlie! He shot him and then he took him! It's all my fault. I should have called for you sooner. Damn it! How could I have let this happen?" Don shouted angrily.

"Don, calm down. You're hurt. You need to just rest. Let us handle this, okay? We'll get Charlie back, I promise. This wasn't your fault, okay?"

Don shook his head. "No! You don't understand! He's going to kill Charlie. I know it! Please, Megan!"

Megan had never seen Don look more hopeless before. Her boss was too weak to hold his own head up, yet he was talking about going after a criminal. She had to smile at the bond between the brothers. She knew that they would do anything for the other, and if this didn't prove it, she didn't know what would.

"Where are my sons? I need my boys! Don! Charlie!" Alan screamed as he barreled past David and Colby, who had found him and untied him. He hadn't listened to the agents who insisted he needed to be looked over for injuries. He just needed to find his sons and make sure they were okay. He was fine. He just needed to know his sons were too.

"Donny!" Alan screamed as he entered the kitchen and found his son on the floor, shot and bleeding. Megan backed up as Alan entered and gave them space. Uncharacteristic to Don, his eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his father.

"They took him, Dad. They took my brother again, and I... I don't know if I can get him back. They took him and it's all my fault."

Alan quickly took his son into his arms. "Sh. No, Donny. You're wrong. We're going to get him back. You'll see. He's going to be just fine. Sh, Donny. It's okay."

Don closed his eyes and pressed his face into his father's chest. He didn't understand. None of them did. They hadn't been there. They hadn't seen. None of them knew like he did.

Don had seen the look in his brother's eyes. He had seen the man take him away, shoot him without a conscience, without a second glance. Don knew with all his heart that that last look Charlie had given him was goodbye. Don had seen the love in his eyes, understood what Charlie couldn't say with words. Don had always known, and there was nothing Charlie needed to say. But he had said them, and Don knew that it meant it was the end. He was never going to see his brother again, not alive at least. The idea crushed him, and would surely kill him sooner than the bullet in his shoulder.

Don went limp in his father's arms as the sound of the ambulance drew nearer and the pain of his heart breaking consumed his every thought.

Charlie wasn't coming back this time, and that fact was what hurt Don the most.

**Okay, so I totally took too long on an update and didn't even have a Fifth Man tag! What's up with that? Anyway, I'm sorry it's taken so long. I won't have a Fifth Man tag, at least not just yet. I might have one later, but it didn't stick out to me as much as I expected. I hope you're all still enjoying this story! I am so pleased with the feedback and alerts this story has received! It means so much to me. Thank you for coming along for the ride. More to come, but the story is starting to wind down, sadly. But don't worry! More chapters to come! And good news! I'm done with school! Yay! I do have a summer class, but that doesn't start until June and it's only a night class. I should still have plenty of time for writing. See you next time!**


	16. Separation Proves Fatal

**NOTE: I did take some of the later scene from an episode of Numb3rs. They are my resource. That doesn't mean I own it or am trying to pass that information off as my own.**

Charlie never knew that death would hurt so much. He woke on a hard floor, his hand oddly clutching his stomach and covered with a red glue he quickly realized was blood. He managed to sit up and look around and found he was in a cellar of some sort. His eyes scanned the room, noting the blank four walls, concrete, cold, and dark. The shape of a chain hanging from the ceiling and jutting out from the floor became more clear. He winced as his eyes fell on the form of his captor, the man who would soon be the one to put an end to the numbers for Charlie forever.

"Well, look who's awake." Juan moved closer to Charlie, smiling sinisterly as he held up the gun in his hands. Charlie flinched as the gun was pointed closer to him. He remembered a gun so similar – or maybe it was the same one – that had been pointed at him and shot all around him, narrowly missing him each time. It wasn't hard to believe that the man holding the gun now was the same man who had shot at him before. Charlie recognized the voice. It was forever embedded in his mind, there was no mistaking it. He just wondered if his promise "I'm going to kill you. You won't know when, but it's coming," would soon come true. He assumed it would be by a gun, but he'd already been shot once. If the man really wanted to kill him with a gun, he would have already done it. With that thought in mind, Charlie feared what else could be in store for him.

"You know you killed Jose. I don't take too kindly to people killing my only brother, you know? So it only seems fair that I finish what he started."

Charlie gulped, understanding all too well what hurting someone's brother could do to the other brother. He had faced enough bullying in his life to see how Don reacted. Charlie only wondered who this was, Jose's older or younger brother.

"I have a brother, too. You saw him..." Charlie closed his eyes against the memory of seeing his brother get shot. He tried not to remind the man that he had shot him, didn't want to aggravate him further. "He's my older brother."

"Another younger brother, huh? Jose was my big brother, too. He was always the one protecting me. Now it's my turn to protect him."

Charlie nodded weakly. He whimpered as he held his hand tighter against his wound. He had to fight, for his brother. Don would never forgive himself if Charlie died. Charlie knew that, so he had to fight to stay alive as best as he could, even though he was sure he was going to die.

"I get that... My brother, Don, he always was protecting me, too. I'm never the one protecting him. It's just in his nature, you know?"

Juan nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like Jose."

Juan stood and walked over to where Charlie was laying on the floor, looming dangerously above the injured man. "Enough chit chat. Time to get down to business."

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Don was rushed to the hospital, but he begged to be let out of the ambulance. He needed to get his brother back. That was the most important thing to him. He could bleed to death for all he cared, as long as he got Charlie back before that happened. He was taken into the ER as soon as the ambulance stopped outside the doors. Alan was left behind, watching his son be taken away and he struggled with the fact that neither of his sons were with him. Alan visibly shook as the thought of Charlie being taken again entered his mind and he fought to remain standing.

A nurse came over to Alan and offered medical attention. Alan waved the woman away, telling her it had just "been a long day." He sank into a waiting room chair, knowing he would be of no use to either of his sons if he collapsed. His mind went back to his sons, thinking how Charlie could very well be taken from him for good this time. Then he thought of Don, shot and bleeding. What if something happened to him while back there? What if there was a complication? Though his oldest had been screaming and fighting in the ambulance, Alan knew that strength was bound to waver soon. He could not bear to think he could lose both his sons in one day. He refused to let it happen. He couldn't lose either of his boys. They were supposed to outlive him. It was the natural order. Children were supposed to live longer than their parents. It only made sense.

Which Alan assumed was why ten seconds after this thought he collapsed onto the floor, holding his hand over his heart.

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Don only stopped struggling after he was given a sedative. He was now laying in his hospital bed, anxiously tossing and turning every few minutes. He had been patched up, his GSW not being as severe as expected. Don was diagnose with a minor concussion. He had to spend the night for observation. Don looked up when Megan and David walked in the door and stood next to him.

"Hey, Don. How are you feeling?" Megan asked kindly.

"I'm fine. I just need to find Charlie. Can you get me the hell out of here?"

Megan and David chuckled politely.

"No, I'm afraid we can't do that," David responded.

"Then why are you just standing around making small talk when _you_ could be finding him?"

Megan swallowed hard. "We have to ask you a few questions first. You know the drill, Don."

Don rolled his eyes. "Of course I know!" He took a deep breath. "Charlie and I had just gotten up in the morning. We went down in the kitchen. Dad wasn't there, which is weird for him. I went to check on him, while Charlie was downstairs. I found Dad tied up in his shower. He had a piece of duct tape over his mouth so I removed it. He told me that someone was after Charlie. I went to my room, grabbed my gun, and ran downstairs. I went into the kitchen, and the man shot me. I fell, hit my head. I couldn't get up. He was going to shoot me again, but..."

Don fought against tears as the image flashed in his mind. "But Charlie got in the way. He took a shot for me... He doubled over, fell down. The man took him, dragged him out of the kitchen. That was the last I saw of him. I passed out after that."

Don looked away a moment, trying to hide the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.

"Do you know who the man was? Why he would want to hurt Charlie?" Megan asked.

"He was the one who poisoned Charlie. He was there... during Charlie's case."

"For the NSA?" David frowned.

"Yes. He was the man on the tapes I gave you."

Megan nodded. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive. What's Thompkins got to say about all of this?"

"He's livid, secretive. You know, the usual." David smiled.

"Sounds right." Don fell silent as his thoughts returned to his brother. So many things could be happening to Charlie right now. What if he was gone for good this time? What if Charlie didn't make it out of this one? Don's heart hurt at the thought.

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Colby never expected what he saw. Before entering the hospital, the three agents had decided who they would question. Colby had readily offered to question Alan, even though he was concerned about his friend and boss. Although Don's safety was of concern, Colby had always felt a definite connection to Alan, a man who reminded him so much of his own father, whom he had lost at a young age. So he had gone to the waiting room to find Alan while Megan and David went to find Don.

However, as Colby entered the waiting room, he saw Alan, looking abnormally pale and sweaty. He suddenly grasped his heart as he fell out of the chair he was sitting in.

"Alan!" Colby yelled as he ran up to the older man. He helped lower Alan gently to the floor to keep him from knocking his head against one of the other chairs.

"I need some help over here!" Colby yelled, calling upon his FBI voice to make sure he was heard.

"You're okay, Alan. It's all right. I've got you," Colby soothed as he waited for the team of nurses and doctors that came running their way.

"What happened?" one of the nurses asked.

"He just collapsed. He looked awfully pale."

"Do you know if he has any allergies? Is he on any medications?"

Colby never felt more useless. "No... I... I don't know."

The nurse gave him a kind smile. "It's okay. We'll take care of him."

Colby watched as they took Alan away on a stretcher. He could hardly believe he had witnessed that. It seemed the Eppes family was falling apart. He stood and watched until he couldn't see Alan any longer. When Alan was gone, he turned and found out where Don was.

Don, David, and Megan were all talking when Colby stepped into the doorway. He had no idea how he was going to say this, what he was going to say.

"Hey, Colby. How's Dad?" Don asked first thing, and Colby could hardly meet his eyes.

"About that, Don... Your dad..."

Don's eyes immediately searched the agent's face. "What happened?"

"He collapsed. I'm... I'm no doctor, but I think he was having a heart attack."

Megan gasped and held a hand over her mouth in shock. David shook his head in despair and both agents turned to look at Don.

"Where is he?" Don asked it calmly, too calmly. The underlying tone spoke his true emotions. He was terrified, furious, worried, and needed to get to his family as soon as he could.

"They took him back. I... I don't know what they did after that."

"WHERE IS HE?" Don screamed, angry. He stood from the bed, barely able to remain standing. His head injury still took its toll on him and he swayed dizzily. He wanted to get to his father, needed to know he was all right. He couldn't lose his entire family in one day. It couldn't happen like this. He wouldn't allow it. And he'd be damned if he'd let people just keep him from going to his father and taking care of him.

"Don, you need to sit down, okay? Get back in your bed," Megan said calmly, hoping he would respond kinder to a woman. She lightly pushed on his chest and Don exploded.

"Get the hell out of my way!" He pushed Megan out of his way and went to the door. David and Colby intercepted, noticing how unsteady Don was on his feet.

"Don, I understand your concern, but right now, I'm a hell of a lot stronger than you. Don't make me take you down," David warned.

Don's face fell, showing his weaker side. "I need to get to my dad... Please. He needs me. I can't just leave him."

David softened immediately. "I know, Don. I know. But you haven't left him. Right now you need to get better so that you can take care of your dad when he needs you. Okay?"

Don nodded solemnly. He took two steps for his bed, then bolted. His ploy had worked thus far. He bolted for the door and made it outside when a couple of orderlies grabbed him by the arms and pushed him back to his bed. Don fought them every step of the way, but his strength was wavering fast.

As his head hit the pillow, Don looked pleadingly at Megan. She could barely hear him as he breathlessly spoke and she moved closer. When she neared, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.

"Take care of them... for me. I can't do it. I can't." There were tears in Don's eyes as he pleaded with Megan. The fact that he couldn't take care of his family this time was enough to nearly kill him on the spot. But he could trust them. These people were like family. He could trust them with the job. Don wanted so badly to be able to do it himself, but for once, he had to give that control over to someone else. He had held this job his entire life, always protecting the ones he loved. Now, when he was down, it was his team he had to rely on. Charlie was gone, maybe dead. Alan was sick, possibly dying or dead. And there Don was, too weak to make it all better. He made himself sick. Why couldn't he just get up and go to them? He had to find Charlie, had to find Alan. They'd never make it alone. They needed each other. This separation would be what would hurt them all the most.

Megan's eyes watered as she looked down into the desperation in Don's chocolate brown eyes. She hated seeing him like this, but it made her want to fight harder. She grasped his hand back with equal strength and leaned close to his ear as his eyes continually searched her face.

"We'll take care of them, Don. Don't you worry. Okay? It's going to be okay. I'll take care of everything."

Don nodded, satisfied. As his eyes drooped, he continued to mumble orders to his team.

"Take care of them... Get Charlie... back."

"We will, Don. You've got nothing to worry about," Colby answered.

Don nodded before he fell asleep. The nurse had given him a round of morphine and the drug was making him drowsy. Megan slipped her hand from his death grip, and wiped at her eyes before looking between David and Colby.

"Call Amita and Larry. They need to be here for Don and Alan. But you and I, we've got a mathematician to find."

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Charlie didn't remember ever being so scared. He had been strung up weakly to the chains hanging from the ceiling. Now his body drooped in the air, barely touching the floor. Charlie hung resignedly, too weak to care. He had no idea what state his family was in. Don was shot, bleeding on the kitchen last he'd seen. Alan hadn't been there. He must have been okay, for Don to know where to look for him. But what if he had been on the verge of death? Maybe he wasn't okay either. Charlie could only imagine the state of his family members, and not knowing was the hardest part. His stomach burned with a great intensity, but Juan had been kind enough to clot the bleeding, claiming he couldn't let Charlie die before he had some "fun with him." He could only imagine what that meant.

"Have you ever heard of QNB, Professor?" Juan asked, smiling.

Charlie shivered just at the name. "I have. Quinuclidinyl benzilate. It's supposed to cause hallucinations. It's usually used to make people talk. It also... amplifies pain receptors and causes you to lose muscle control. Often makes you restless, and have an intense desire to move."

"So you've heard of it then?" Juan laughed. He took out a syringe and a small vile. He filled the syringe with the liquid in the vile and moved closer toward Charlie.

"I think you know where this is headed, don't you, Professor?" Juan smiled at Charlie.

Charlie's eyes focused on the syringe. He visibly shook and his chains rattled as he moved with fear. Juan came toward him, holding the syringe out with a steady hand.

Charlie closed his eyes as the syringe neared. Soon he felt the injection of the needle in his arm and he could hardly stand it. When the syringe was empty, Juan pulled it out and walked away. He moved to a table in the corner with a box on top.

"I thought you might be interested in looking at your options."

Juan took out the first item in the box, a carton of cigarettes. "Thought you might enjoy this, for old times' sakes." Juan smiled. He proceeded to pull out a box of nails, which he explained would be hammered into his body one at a time; a can of gasoline; a pocket knife; a whip; and a case of needles, to go under each of Charlie's finger and toenails.

"So, which will it be, Professor?" Juan asked, holding up each option. As the drug began to take effect, Charlie's body began to buck against the chains. His stomach burned with an intensity unlike any other, but he kept his mouth shut. He couldn't decide, didn't want to.

Juan stepped up closer, anger written on his face. "Choose your method of torture... or it's the end for you."

Juan took out his gun and pressed it right between Charlie's eyes, where Charlie could see it plain as day. Charlie's body continually bucked back and forth, his forehead hitting the end of the gun each time. He stared past the barrel and into the eyes of Lucifer himself and prayed if he was going to die, his family would be waiting on the other side.

**Wow, am I in a whumping mood?! I'll tell you, even I was surprised that I did that to Alan. LOL It wasn't planned, but, you know, it fits. More to come soon! I hope you're loving the angst and whumping. Sorry if the hospital scene was a little unbelievable with Don. I wish there was like a writer's guide to writing hospital scenes. They're the worst! I never know proper treatment and all that. If anyone wants to beta that for me, feel free! I would appreciate it. If I did okay or it's good enough for you, then we'll just let it slide. LOL All right! Enjoy this chapter, and I'll get back to writing ASAP!**


	17. A Visit from the Specter

The rhythmic beating of a heart monitor had never seemed more fascinating to Don. He stared at it, watching every line, every jump, every beat. It seemed unreal to him that his father's heart monitor had somehow become perfectly matched to his own heartbeat. Or had they always shared the same beat? Don didn't know, but he stared at the heart monitor across from him as if Ted Williams and Babe Ruth were back on the field, playing against each other in a World Series game to end all games.

Don was so relieved that Alan was okay. The chest pain was the result of a panic attack since Alan allowed himself to get swept up with the fear of losing both his sons in one day. On his order, Don had made sure that Alan was placed in his room. The doctors were testing Alan's heart, so he had to stay overnight. It only made sense to him to have his father in the same room. Besides, the long walk down the hall would not be good for his health or Alan's.

Don watched as Alan began to stir and he quickly sat up to move to his father's side. With a low groan, he slid off the bed and walked the few steps to his dad. He reached out and grabbed Alan's hand in both of his.

"Donny?" Alan asked before he opened his eyes. He could feel the strength in the hands that held his, knowing his son's touch immediately as if it were his own.

"I'm here, Dad. You're okay."

_You're okay?_ Surely that meant something was off. Don didn't just say that for nothing. What had happened?

"Charlie?" Alan asked next, expecting to hear his youngest son's voice next.

Don closed his eyes against the pain. Charlie wasn't going to answer. He wasn't there, may never be there again. Don swallowed hard against the painful lump in his throat, nervously waiting for Alan to remember.

"Dad, Charlie's not..."

"Oh, God! Charlie!" Alan's eyes opened wide as he looked desperately at Don. "Please tell me they found him! Please!"

Don's tears were enough answer for Alan. His oldest son didn't cry. Never in front of anyone else, but Alan would be surprised if he even cried in secrecy. He looked up into his son's tear-filled eyes, and Alan felt his heart hurt once more.

Don heard the monitor change rhythm from the regular beat it had kept up. He gripped his father's hand tighter and sat on the bed next to him. "Calm down, Dad. It'll be okay. We'll get him back. It's going to be all right."

Alan tried to calm down, but his baby boy was kidnapped. He saw the man responsible, heard his evil plan. Would he ever see his son alive again? With a dreadful thought, he took in Don's attire and his heart started faster again.

"Donny! Oh my God. Are you all right? I'm so sorry I didn't think of you. Are you okay? Are you in pain?" Alan sat up and tried to assess his son for injuries. Don stayed his hands and grasped his father's face in his hands.

"I'm okay, Dad. It's all right. Sh, just calm down. Everything is going to be fine."

Alan finally managed to control his breathing and his heart rate came back down to normal. He stared up at his son and covered Don's hands with his.

"I'm so sorry this is happening, Don."

"You couldn't help any of this. It's not your fault. I should have stayed with Charlie and protected him. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"No, Donny. It's not your fault at all. We couldn't control this. We can't be responsible for everyone else's actions including our own. That's too much to put on a person. We did what we could. Now we just have to trust that we'll get Charlie back and Charlie will keep on fighting until that happens. That's all we can do now."

Don nodded, emotions welling up inside. He still felt responsible. Charlie was his responsibility to protect. Don had always felt that responsibility, even when it wasn't asked of him. Charlie had always been smaller, always needed protecting. Don wouldn't let anyone take care of him but himself. No one else fit the job description like Don did. So now that Charlie had been taken, why else wouldn't Don feel responsible?

"Come here, my boy." Alan held his arms out to his son and Don surprisingly moved into them. Alan held his son to his chest and soothingly stroked Don's short brown hair. "It's going to be okay. We'll get Charlie back."

Their roles reversed, Don welcomed his father's embrace and closed his eyes as he listened to the simultaneous beating of his father's heart with his.

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The rhythmic rattling of the chains on his arms had never seemed more haunting to Charlie. He stared up at them to avoid looking at Juan, watching every jump as his body bucked in reaction to the drugs administered to him earlier. It seemed unreal to him that he was back in this place, this position. Or was he only dreaming? Charlie knew he wasn't that lucky, so he stared at the chains above him as if Fibonacci and Heisenburg were back in their field, debating their points and coming up with new knowledge the world had never known before.

"I must say, I wish you had chosen the nails. I'm quite handy with a hammer." Juan laughed. Charlie just continued to shake and pull at his binds. The shaking was out of fear, the pulling an involuntary reaction to the injection of QNB running through his veins. He needed to move, felt that need. But his wrists and ankles were chained. He couldn't move if he wanted, save for the small bit of slack left in the chains. His head hung low as he changed his sights to the floor, looking at the carton of cigarettes in front of him. He hoped that would be the most tolerable of his choices, though he knew that meant there would be more once the cigarettes were burned. With the increased pain receptors, Charlie wasn't sure what his next choice would be, if he could even handle this first torture.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Juan smiled up at Charlie, enjoying the professor's misery. He lit the first two cigarettes and applied them to the tender underside of Charlie's right arm.

The scream tore out of Charlie's mouth, leaving his throat raw and scratched. He felt like his whole arm was on fire, and was surprised to find his arm still attached to his shoulder, not in a pile of ashes on the floor below. This was nothing like the last time this had happened. This was a whole new kind of pain. The hell had reached him, but Charlie guessed only his arm had entered so far.

Whimpering as the cigarette began to burn out, Charlie waited and watched as Juan lit the next two. With a cry of fear and a deep swallow, he closed his eyes tight, preparing for the next round. First he heard a ripping, then felt the air hit his left side, inches below his underarm. With the skin exposed, Charlie opened his eyes just in time to see the cigarettes pressed to his side where his ribs most protruded. Charlie felt the hot metal fire-poker stab through his side, expecting to go through all the way to his heart. His breath was stolen and he couldn't seem to find a breath to catch. No air would pass through his throat as it closed up against the pain. Gasping, his agony overwhelmed him till his whole body felt in flames. His vision blurred into a blinding white and he lost any conscious thought as he slipped under.

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"How are you two?" Amita asked. She and Larry had come as soon as Megan had made the call. The two were actually together at CalSci when Megan first called Larry. Upon hearing what had happened, they had quickly gone to the hospital. Because they weren't family, they had to wait until visiting hours to see them.

"We're okay, really," Alan assured her. Don looked away stubbornly. He didn't need people keeping watch over them. He knew his team was behind this. While he appreciated their concern, he didn't care to be watched over when it was completely unnecessary.

"We know, but still! You collapsed, Alan. Don was shot, and Charlie..." Larry was silenced. He didn't know how to say that Charlie had been kidnapped. He didn't want to put more stress on the Eppes family. He knew what the odds were for his dear friend. He knew they weren't good, but he didn't want to share any of those thoughts with Don or Alan. Larry was sure they already knew that information.

"I know, Larry. But you and Amita can go home, honestly. We're fine here." Alan looked over at Don and smiled grimly. The two of them would be okay, no matter what happened. They still had each other. That would have to do for now, may have to do for forever but he wouldn't allow his thoughts to go there just yet.

"Are you two complaining still?" Megan teased as she walked through the door, Colby trailing behind her. Don shot up in bed, looking the most interested he had since the agents had last appeared.

"Did you find him?" Don asked first. The room fell silent, looking expectantly at Colby and Megan.

"Not yet. But we will. Don't worry," Colby assured him.

"I'm sure you'll do everything you can," Amita said to fill the awkward silence. It seemed that without the talkative Charlie in the room, the others couldn't quite find enough to say to fill the silence.

"Of course. How are you guys doing?" Megan asked, focusing more on Alan. She had noticed Colby's reaction to the man's collapse and she had been concerned herself. She saw Colby's face as they entered the room, knowing that he was expecting something much worse.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Just a little anxiety attack. Which I hear you witnessed, son," Alan said, directing his statement to Colby. Colby moved closer to Alan's bedside.

"Yes, sir. I don't hope to ever see it again, if you don't mind," Colby joked, hiding the true fear he had felt. It had worried him to come back to the hospital, for fear he'd find Alan dying in that bed, or worse. The fact that he had been fine and had suffered from nothing worse than a panic attack was enough to calm his fears.

Alan smiled. "I'm sorry to scare you, Colby. I know I scared everyone. It's just... hard."

Alan and Don locked gazes and reached out as far as they could until they could grasp each other's hands from their beds. Don tried to give his father an assuring smile, hoping it would be enough to comfort him. Alan nodded slightly, as though to confirm that he did feel better.

"It's been six hours. No leads yet, but I hope to get a hit soon. We found the license plate from Agent Grey's camera in his car."

Don sat up again. "Agent Grey! I never even thought about him. How is he? Was he okay? And Agent Monahan?" Don could have kicked himself for forgetting about the agents assigned to watching Charlie's house. The two must have been injured since they hadn't prevented the situation.

"They're going to be okay. Both were injected with thiopental, knocked them out. They missed the whole thing. Monahan watched Grey get injected, tried to stop the man from getting him, but there wasn't much he could have done."

Don sighed in relief. "That's good news at least."

Amita and Larry nodded, exchanging looks. It was good that at least someone had come out of the attack unscathed. If only they could say the same about the Eppes.

Megan flinched a little when her cell phone began to ring. She looked down at it, reading the caller ID. "It's David." She walked outside into the hall, Colby following. They didn't want the others to hear at the same time in case it was something that they shouldn't hear, or worse, bad news.

Don stood, wincing as he did so. He walked toward the door, listening intently. He could barely make out what was being said, but with basic reasoning skills, he was pretty sure he understood what the phone call meant.

"Don, should you be out of bed?" Larry asked, coming to Don's side. Also worried, Amita came and put her arm around one of Don's while Larry took the other. They guided Don back to his bed. He didn't really care this time because he was almost positive he knew what was going on on the other side of the door.

Soon Megan walked in, just enough to peak her head in. "Sorry, guys. We've gotta go. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. See you later," Don said in response, trying to act normal.

"Bye," the other three chorused.

"Bye," Colby and Megan waved as they quickly left.

"I hope that means good news," Alan said, watching Don. He had a feeling his son knew what was going on.

"I think it does, Dad. I think so." Don smiled, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. _Hold on, Buddy. I'm on my way._

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The blinding white suddenly morphed into the dark outline of a woman. He squinted against the light as it nearly blinded him. Suddenly the light dimmed and he made out the figure's face.

"Mom?" Charlie questioned, confused at first. With a sigh, he realized the expected had finally occurred. "Where... where are Don and Dad?"

Margaret smiled down at her son. "They didn't die, sweetie. Neither did you."

Charlie frowned. "Then why?"

"Why are you here? I know what's going on, Charlie. And I wish you and I could trade places, but I know that won't happen. Your father and Don want to be there too. We'd all give anything to keep you from hurting like this."

"But if I'm not going to be here with you, why am I here?"

Margaret smiled sadly. "I know what you've been thinking. Even if I wasn't here, I'd know what you're thinking. I've always been able to read that mind of yours like an open book. Charlie, you have to fight. You can't give in."

Charlie started to cry, tears silently flooding his cheeks. His mother's feather-light touch wiped at his tears, her hands as soft as he remembered them. The smell of lavender and vanilla was still strong in his mind, or maybe she really did still smell like that. "But it hurts... so much."

Margaret's eyes shone with tears. "I know, sweetheart. I know. But you have to keep fighting. Promise me you will."

Charlie didn't know if he could do that. "Donny? Dad? They're going to be okay?"

Margaret nodded, smiling. "They're going to be just fine... but only if you keep fighting. I don't know how they'd make it if you came with me."

Charlie reached out to touch his mother and was surprised to find he could. "But I want to be with you."

Margaret gathered her son in her arms, like she had so many years ago when he was just a small toddler, scared of the dark or hurt by a boo-boo. "I know, sweetheart. I want you to be here too. But we can't be selfish. Your dad and brother need you more than I need you. We'll be together soon, I promise."

"I miss you so much." Charlie cried, pressing deeper into his mother's shoulder.

Margaret's arms strengthened, holding tighter. "I know it hurts, but promise me you'll fight. Fight for Donny, for Daddy. You think you can do that for me?"

Charlie nodded. "I promise."

Margaret smiled. "I'm so proud of you. Just hold on, Charlie. Donny's on his way."

"Don?" Charlie smiled, hopeful.

Margaret chuckled softly, knowing how much that knowledge alone meant to Charlie. "Yeah, Donny's on his way. He'll be there soon. Just hold on a little bit longer. Then Don will take care of everything."

Charlie smiled. "Okay."

The light began to vanish, and Charlie scrambled to reach his mother. He couldn't be leaving her already. That wasn't enough time. He still needed her! He had to tell her how much he loved her. It was safe with his mother. If he was going back, that meant he would be in pain. As his hands reached again, Charlie felt the weight of the chains holding him back.

"Mommy?"

Juan laughed out loud, hysterical. _Mommy? _He'd done his fair share of torturing in his life and never had a grown man asked for his "mommy." This was better than he thought.

"Glad to see you're back, Professor. I didn't bother continuing while you were out. I didn't want to let you off that easily."

Charlie's eyes opened and he found Juan's face in place of his mother's. The difference was heartbreaking. If only his mother were there with him. Life would be more tolerable. But what had she said? Donny's on his way?

With the faintest hint of a smile, Charlie closed his eyes. If Don was truly on his way, he could hold out for hours. Don would make things better, and if he was on his way, that meant he wasn't hurt, right? Don had been shot the last time Charlie had seen him. If he was on his way to rescue Charlie, then surely he wasn't hurt! Charlie could withstand the torture with that information alone.

"I'm bored lighting cigarettes. What do you say we liven things up a bit?"

Charlie opened his eyes and watched Juan. He was watching Charlie, waiting to see the professor's reaction. He didn't disappoint. With a laugh, Juan went back to pick the next "treatment" for Charlie.

"You got first choice, now it's mine." Juan reached down and grabbed the pocket knife, bringing it back to Charlie.

"I think we can have some fun with this, don't you?"

Charlie stared fearfully at the glinting blade of the knife. As Juan neared, he watched Charlie's face, basking in the fear the professor emanated. With a burst of strength, he reared his hand back and brought it across Charlie's face in a solid punch. Charlie's body whipped against the chains, pressing into the already tender flesh that was chained. Dropping the knife, Juan reared back again and hit Charlie's nose, coming back bloody as he broke the professor's nose.

With a good kick to Charlie's ribcage, Juan affectively stole Charlie's breath once more. Charlie couldn't find any way to protect himself. He couldn't move his hands to cover his face, stomach, nothing. Blood dripped down his nostrils and over his mouth. His left eye was beginning to swell shut from the first punch. In a move that seemed too evil to be truly happening, Juan punched Charlie in the stomach where he had been stabbed. The bleeding that had been stopped earlier began again and Charlie was scared to see the thick layer of bandages soon turn red with his blood.

Juan continued to strike Charlie, even using the gun he had shot Charlie and Don with. Charlie's body was so bruised and battered that he was beyond screaming. The pain had been pushed some place beyond reach. He couldn't even cry in reaction. He had become a hanging body of agony. The pain had consumed him until no other thoughts got in, save one other.

_Donny's on his way._

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"You can't go, Don!" David ordered as he held his hands up as a barrier, standing outside the FBI offices near the vans. Don hadn't even been released from the hospital. He had overheard Megan and Colby when they started to leave his room because they got a call about Charlie's whereabouts. So he signed himself out, sneaking out of the hospital in the street clothes he'd come in, still bloody and torn. The thin fabric hung off him in shreds from where the EMTs cut his shirt open, but he still bothered wearing it. David could hardly believe Don had made it out of the hospital without being seen in such attire.

Don glared at David, never good with authority, but certainly not now when his brother's life was at stake. He took a threatening step toward the younger man and looked him dead in the eyes, anger and determination reddening his chocolate brown eyes.

"Like hell I can't. You listen to me, and you listen good. I don't give a damn if I don't get a goddamn Kevlar vest to put on. I'd gladly take 20 bullets for Charlie without one. I don't give a shit if I go in there without a gun; I'll gladly kill the bastard with my own two hands. I don't care if I die out there today, as long as Charlie is safe. You can stand here and order me not to go, and I know I would do the same in your position. But this is my brother, David. My _brother._ This isn't just any case. This isn't just any victim. It's Charlie, my brother, our consultant, young people's teacher, a world renowned mathematician. I know we should treat every victim like he's someone's brother, someone's sister. But, damn it, I can't go killing every vicious bastard who dares to hurt someone else. I'm only one man, and I only have one brother. And right now, he needs _me. _Not you, not Colby, not Megan, not even my dad. He needs me, and I need him. So it's my intention to go with you right now and get him. You can try to stop me, but you won't succeed. I may be hurt, but I'm an older brother and I don't need any other strength in the world to get past you."

David stood, mouth open wide as he stared into his boss' eyes. He could hardly believe the words that had come out of Don's mouth. He should have, but he'd never heard Don speak so much about his brother and really verbalize his feelings toward Charlie. He hadn't come right out and used the four letter word, but it was in every line he said, quietly underling each word. _Love_. Don loved Charlie. Anyone who tried to say different was a fool. Though the two had their many disagreements and many differences, the two were forever bonded by brotherhood. Don and Charlie loved each other, though it was never said. It didn't need to be. If you just stepped back and paid attention, you could see it in their physical gestures, the pats on the back, the raising of an arm as if to hug, the squeezing of the neck. They were all small signs of love. You could hear it in what they said, the concern for each other, the fear, the "Buddys" and "Donnys" and even the "Chucks" and "Jocks." They were brothers, and they cared about each other, more than either cared to admit.

David knew there was no way he could let Don miss this. He knew he could get in trouble, knew it was wrong, knew Don was hurt. But dammit, Don was right. He needed this, and Charlie needed him. Don would go crazy knowing they were out to get Charlie without him.

"All right. You can go."

Don nodded. "We've wasted enough time. Let's go."

Don got into the car and turned when Colby handed him a spare FBI t-shirt. Don smiled and took off his tattered shirt and threw the blue t-shirt on. His smile quickly vanished and determination set his jaw. He stared ahead through the van windshield and watched as they neared his brother. He knew he could find his brother shot, bleeding out, tortured, dying, dead. There were many things that could happen, things that would break his heart. But Don knew he owed this much to his brother. No matter what he was about to face, Don would go through with it because no matter what the outcome would be, Charlie would be on the other side. And with that in mind, Don knew there was no place else he'd rather be than on that side with him.

**Well, guys, how's that for you? Are you relieved? LOL Sorry I stopped before the rescue scene. I'm not quite done with Charlie yet. Bwahahaha! As always, I hope you enjoyed this and sorry for the delay. More to come!**


	18. A Step Away from The Edge

Charlie's heart wasn't in it anymore. He began to question his vision while he was unconscious. Rationalizing it, he knew that it couldn't have really happened. So how could his mother's reassurance been true? Don wasn't coming. Don got shot. David would never let him come out to an active crime scene. Never. But the gnawing sense that his brother really was coming gave him enough hope to hold on, for now.

Juan decided it was time to use Charlie as a punching bag, it seemed. Taking out all his frustrations over the loss of his brother, Juan punched Charlie with all the strength he had. Though he enjoyed using unusual means of torture, he realized that just something as simple as two fists was enough to make the professor look ready to cave in and die. It felt good getting his hands dirty. Juan liked a more "hands on" approach.

Charlie groaned as the fists connected with his ribs. He'd been hit everywhere imaginable. He couldn't breathe anymore. His whole body felt swollen, bruised, and broken. His body continued to buck and shake, a reaction to the QNB. The attacks against his body still felt intensified one hundred times. He wished he could focus on the numbers, but they served him no comfort now. The only thought keeping him going was his brother's rescue. Would Don be coming? Or was it all just in his head?

Juan reached around, scrambling to find his next weapon. He didn't want to dirty his hands much more, so he reached down and grabbed a broken golf club he usually used for heating. He'd get it red hot and then stab it into someone. Now, though, he felt like hitting a few. The club's end was off so now it was a straight metal pole with a rubber handle. Gripping the padded handle, Juan swung back and struck Charlie in the head.

Momentarily blinded by the hit, Charlie saw stars. By the time he could see again, his vision was in red. Confused, it took him a moment to realize that blood was spilling down his forehead and over his eyes. His mouth hanging open and slack, Charlie blinked blearily, his breath staggered. Before he had a chance to recover from the first blow, Juan struck him again in the ribs. Charlie thought he heard the crack of the bones, but it could have been in his head. It felt like he'd been hit by a car and it effectively crushed all of his ribs.

Tears came to Charlie's eyes as he managed to raise his head and look to the ceiling. He wished he could just raise up through the roof and get out of here. His eyes off of Juan, the next hit struck him across his face and he whipped his head around to the side. His eyes left the ceiling as he felt his face split open and bruise at the same time. He tried to look down, afraid that that half of his face had been ripped off with the strike. When he didn't feel tons of blood dripping down his face, he assumed it was just because of the drugs in his system that it felt so bad. Charlie felt his heartbeat catch and he wasn't able to catch a full breath.

Blood dripped off his chin and pooled at his neck until it made its slow decent and absorbed into the fabric of his t-shirt. The slashed piece of cloth was becoming less and less recognizable as once being a shirt. Charlie closed his eyes again, willing his mother to return. Even if it was hard to believe, he had to think that somewhere his family was out there and they would protect him. Charlie had no one else to protect him now. He couldn't protect himself. So it was up to his family to pull him out of this.

Hanging limply off the chains around his wrists, Charlie knew that if it weren't for the drugs in his system, he would never be able to move this much. Though the movement had become involuntary, he was beginning to tire from fighting against the strains. The need to move was still strong, intensified by the fact that Charlie wanted nothing more than to run away from this man, this hell. Running was his natural instinct. Don had been the one to fight, Charlie the one to flee. There was only so much Charlie could take of the fighting before he knew it was time to flee. For him, that time had been hours ago.

Juan pulled back for another hefty swing. Striking the same place on the left side of Charlie's ribs, the crack of the bones became more evident. Beginning to panic, Charlie choked as he breathed, wheezing in pain and terror.

Juan looked at Charlie, smiling. The professor had purple bruises up and down his arms, dotted by burn marks from the cigarettes. Blood spilled over his face from his forehead and the mark on his cheek. The bloody bandage around Charlie's waist showed where the gunshot wound remained untreated. His shirt was tattered and dirtied with blood, dust, and dirt. The exposed area of his side showed the bruised and broken ribs beneath. His pants had small rips and tears at it, but it was harder to see the bruises beneath that Juan knew were there. Yes, the professor made quite a sight. Juan was proud of his work so far. It was almost time for the finishing touch.

"Remember that little thing I told you last time? I told you something important. Can you remember what it was?"

Charlie had to swallow down the fear as he continued to cough and wheeze. "I remember."

Juan smiled. "Then you know what I'm about to do next?"

Charlie nodded, letting a tear fall from his eye. He felt the lump in his throat grow, making it harder to breathe. Opening his eyes, he found the gun Juan used to shoot Don, to shoot Charlie, was pointed at him once again.

"Well, Professor. It's been fun," Juan said as he aimed for Charlie's head.

Charlie faced death head on, watching as Juan got his enjoyment out of aiming the gun at him. With a silent message, he hoped his family could hear and understand.

_I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I love you both._

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Don watched the miles fall away as he rode in the FBI van to Charlie's location. He prayed this was a reliable source and it truly was Charlie. When the van jolted to a stop, Don was the first one out of the van and the rest piled out.

"Put this on," David ordered Don as he shoved an extra Kevlar vest at him. Don took it with a nod of thanks but found it almost impossible to put on by himself without straining his GSW.

Seeing his boss struggle, Colby came up behind him and took the vest out of Don's hands. "Here you go, boss man."

Don smiled in thanks as Colby pulled the vest over Don's head and helped him snap it into place.

"Thanks," Don said quietly as he walked away from the agent. He stepped back a moment, allowing David to take the lead. Don rounded the van and found a spare gun for him to use. He came back, gun in his hand, and watched as David prepared the team to execute.

Don stayed farther back as David prepared the team to enter the house. With the motion of three fingers, the team pushed open the doors and entered the house. Don moved forward, coming toward the front of the lines. His shoulder ached as he stretched his gun out in front of him. The first level was cleared and Don found the door to the basement.

"David," Don called, waving him over. David saw the door, and looked at the team. Silently calling them over, he took the lead and opened the door and made his way down the steps.

Before they reached the bottom, a shot went off and narrowly missed hitting David in the head. Without flinching, David continued his decent and the team lined up, all aiming at Juan, who was holding Charlie against him at gunpoint.

"Well, well, well. The FBI is here," Juan sing-songed. He watched the agents with a cool stare as he held the gun against a weak and chained Charlie Eppes. Charlie continued to shake and fight against the chains that held him. He had his eyes tightly closed against the gun held at his throat. Forcing himself, he managed to open his eyes, and searched the mob of FBI agents surrounding them. His eyes found Don and he smiled for a brief moment.

Don saw the action. He had not made eye contact with his brother, as his eyes were locked on Juan's hand holding the gun. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement from his brother. Seeing the smile there, it took a lot for him not to smile in return. Charlie was okay. He was comforted, and that was enough to make Don happy, if only for a moment.

"Put down the gun, Juan! You're outnumbered here."

"Numbered? Funny you should talk about that. Tell me, Professor, after all the shots I've taken, how many bullets do I have left?"

Charlie shivered. Taking a shaky breath, he answered, "T-two."

"Ah, two. Good math their, Eppesy. Let's see. What could I do with two bullets I wonder?"

Don felt Colby's hand reach out and hold him back a bit as he lunged forward when Juan ran the gun over the length of Charlie's neck and then ran it over Charlie's eyes. Charlie whimpered as the gun rested on his face and he wouldn't dare open his eyes.

"You see, gentlemen, lady," Juan said, pointedly looking toward Megan, but she just gave him a cool stare in return. "My plan is to put one bullet in this young professor here and then I still have one more to get me out. So what will it be? Two deaths on your hands or none? You can let me go now and I won't pull my trigger again on any of you today. But if you won't take that offer, I'm afraid you'll have to be prepared to lose both the professor and another agent. So what do you choose?"

"We can't let you just go. Can't we cut a deal? There's no way we can just let you walk away," David responded.

"So be it," Juan answered the agent's question. His finger barely had the chance to curl around the trigger when four shots rang out.

Charlie screamed as the shots rang out, trying to protect himself. His instincts didn't come in handy, though, as he tried to cover his body with his arms, for he couldn't move against the restraints against him. As he realized no added pain had reached his body, he opened his eyes and saw Juan dropped on the floor in a puddle of blood.

Don dropped his weapon as he ran to his younger brother.

"Where's the medic?" he shouted before he even reached Charlie.

"They'll be here in five," Megan called back.

"Well I want them here NOW!"

Charlie's breathing was completely too fast and shaking. The chains rattled as he bucked against the confines. "Please get me down! I gotta get out. Please! Oh, God!"

Don was relieved to have his brother free, but he knew Charlie was not out of the woods yet. "Where are the damn keys to this thing?"

"Start looking!" David ordered.

The agents spread out and searched the room for the key. Megan bent and searched Juan's body for the key. Unexpectedly, Colby ran out of the room.

"Sh, it's okay, Buddy. You're all right now. Just breathe for me, okay?"

Charlie tried to focus on his brother, but he needed out. It was more than the effects of QNB. He needed out. He needed to get away from here.

Don searched his brother's body and found himself even more disgusted with Juan. Charlie looked so much worse up close and Don could see the different methods of torture Juan used. He gently reached out and touched Charlie's side where deep, dark bruising had started. As his fingers met skin, Charlie hissed in pain and Don drew his hand back.

Colby returned a moment later bringing a chain cutter from the van. Don moved closer to Charlie.

"Okay, Colby. You cut the chains. I'll hold him."

Don got in position. "It's okay, Buddy. We're going to get you down now, all right? Just hang onto me. I've got you."

"Ready?" Colby asked as he prepared to cut the chains holding Charlie's wrists.

"Ready." Don nodded. He watched as Colby prepared to cut and he lightly wrapped an arm around Charlie's back. With the snap of the chains breaking, Charlie dropped almost a foot. His wrists still bound together, Don caught Charlie. Charlie's bound wrists went around Don. Don winced a little against the pain but he lowered Charlie and himself to the floor. Colby worked on cutting the chains around Charlie's ankles as Don held his brother against him.

"Sh, it's okay. You're okay now. Donny's here. I've got you."

Don rested his head against his brother's hair. He could hardly believe they were together again. He held his brother tightly as Charlie continued to shake and rock against him.

"Easy, Buddy. You're okay."

"Q... QNB," Charlie responded weakly.

Don pushed back to look into his brother's eyes. "What?"

"He... injected me with... QNB. Makes me... move like... this."

Don nodded in understanding. Tears filling his eyes, he looked at his brother's face. "You scare the shit out of me, you know that?"

Charlie's eyes filled in return. "I'm sorry. I don't... mean to."

"It's all right, Buddy. As long as you're okay now, that's all that matters."

Charlie's head slumped forward against Don. "Dad? Is he... okay?"

"He's fine. Worried sick about us, but he's fine."

"Good."

Charlie let himself rest, though his body never stilled. He closed his eyes and laid against Don's chest. He felt someone fiddling with his wrists. He opened his eyes long enough to see Megan unlocking the restraints against his hands. She smiled at him when he caught her eye.

As the restraints were removed from his wrists, Charlie's arms fell limply at his sides. Don had to further support his brother, holding him up.

"I've got you. You won't fall. Don's got you," Don soothed.

Charlie sighed. "Knew you'd... come."

Don smiled. "How'd you ever know that?"

He had just been teasing, knowing that his brother had to have known he'd come, no matter what. But when Charlie answered, he was surprised.

"She told me you were coming."

Don frowned, not understanding. Who was she?

"I can't... breathe," Charlie suddenly said weakly. Though it was said quietly, calmly, Don felt a sting of panic strike his heart at the words.

"Easy, Buddy. You're okay. Hang on." Don put his arms under his brother's and lightly laid Charlie flat against the floor. Charlie's chest heaved as he tried to gasp out each breath. Don took his brother's hand, trying to offer some comfort.

"Calm down, Charlie. Just breathe. Breathe like me. Okay?" Don took Charlie's hand in his and laid it against Don's chest, trying to get his brother to feel and understand how to breathe.

Whimpering in fear, Charlie fought to breathe. Each breath came out as a wheeze. He could feel the difference in breathing. This wasn't normal, but he couldn't take a full breath. He tried, but failed. Not being able to breathe scared Charlie. He held his stomach with one hand and felt it warm again with blood. He looked at Don and then his hand.

Don followed Charlie's eyes and he felt a growing urgency. His brother's GSW was bleeding, Charlie couldn't breathe, he was bruised all over, beaten, and burned. Don felt the fear grow inside him, knowing he still could lose his baby brother.

"Wh-"

"The ambulance is here, Don," David answered as Don started to ask about the medics again. The team came down and made quick work on Charlie.

"He needs in a hospital. Now," the female medic told her partner minutes later.

"I agree. Let's take him out!" They lifted Charlie onto the stretcher and started to take him out. Don pushed to get closer to Charlie, following them out.

"You family?"

"I'm his brother," Don answered the medic.

Nodding, the medic allowed Don to come. They lifted Charlie into the ambulance and they began to drive off. They placed an oxygen mask over Charlie's face and the panic managed to subside. One medic worked at cutting open Charlie's shirt to examine the wounds underneath while the other worked on cleaning the wounds on Charlie's head. When the material was completely gone, the medics shared a brief look, as if to say, "What the hell happened to this guy?" There were more than fresh wounds beneath the man's clothes. Old scars of burns, a couple GSWs, cuts, and other wounds lined just the man's torso. The medics almost feared to see what else was on this man. They were only looking at the front side, too.

The medic replaced the old makeshift bandage around Charlie's waist with sterile gauze. She cleaned it first, then wrapped the area in heavy bandages, since the wound had begun to bleed once more. She laid ice packs against Charlie's bruised and possibly broken ribs. The other medic laid bandages against Charlie's forehead and cheek, then worked on the burns on Charlie's arms and chest.

Don continued to hold his brother's hand. Charlie looked awfully weak in the new light. He was an abnormal color, his face ashen and lips bloodless. The bruises, cuts, and burns stood out brightly against a colorless body. Charlie wouldn't have been moving at all if it weren't for QNB still running through his body.

"I'm so sorry, Buddy. I'm so sorry," Don apologized heartily. He held his brother's hand tightly and pressed it against his mouth a moment.

Charlie opened his eyes, looking at his brother. He tried to talk against the oxygen mask. When he found he couldn't, he reclaimed his hand and pulled it off his face.

"Not your fault... Never was."

Don smiled tearfully. "It never should have happened, though."

Charlie nodded. "I know... but it's okay."

Don swallowed hard, regaining some strength. "You're going to be just fine, Buddy."

Charlie gave a small smile and nodded. He put the oxygen mask back against his face and closed his eyes. He held his hand out, knowing Don would be there to take it.

They soon reached the hospital and Don felt as if a part of him had been amputated when he and Charlie had to let go. His hand hung limp, not knowing what to do without Charlie's in it. He ran alongside the stretcher, telling Charlie he was there and he would see him soon.

"Tell Dad... I'm okay."

Don smiled. "I will."

"I love you... both."

"I'll tell him, I promise."

"Good." Charlie smiled once at his brother and then he was taken behind the double doors where Don could go no further.

About to collapse, Don made his way to a nurse's desk. His wound had begun to bleed again as well and his strength began to waver. Reaching the desk, he leaned heavily against it.

"Hi, I'm Don Eppes. I checked myself out a few hours ago. I was wondering, could you take me back? I need back in my room with my father, please. And later we'll have a third patient in the room with us."

"Sir, we don't have three-person rooms," the nurse responded, confused.

"You do now."

**Aw! They're reunited! Woot! Aren't you happy? Sooo, how was it? Did I forget anything? Did you need more out of it? Tell me, tell me, tell me! We're still not at the end, but there won't be many more after this. I'm guessing two or three, which is sad. But I've been working on this for almost a YEAR now. Isn't that crazy? Thank you all SO much for sticking around for such a loooong ride. I really appreciate. Okay, give me some feedback on how this went. Hope it satisfied you! Love ya!**


	19. The Outcome of Four Shots

As his eyes opened to the blinding white light of the hospital room, Charlie's mind flashed with painful memories of the past. With a sharp gasp, he searched the area around him, unable to move his head from side to side. With a surge of panic, he realized that his body was strapped down, unable to move. He fought against the binds, feeling his arms particularly weighted down. Something was covering his face, preventing him from screaming. Was he back with Juan? Did he imagine the whole rescue?

Don shot up in bed, looking to the bed between him and his father. It appeared that Charlie was awake, and he wasn't happy about it. Don rushed out of bed, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he pushed off the bed with his left arm. He quickly walked the few steps to his brother's bed, and wondered what to do first.

"Charlie! Charlie, you're okay. Look at me. You're okay. You're in the hospital. It's all right now!" Don screamed to his brother, trying to get through to Charlie that the danger was over. But Charlie was having none of it.

Charlie shook his head back and forth from side to side, his eyes shut tightly. This couldn't be happening, not again. As he screamed against the oxygen mask placed over his mouth, his voice came out as a mumbled shout.

"Charlie, look at me, Buddy. Look at me. Focus on me," Don ordered pleadingly. He dared to reach out and grab his brother's head in his hands, firm, but gentle enough for Charlie to recognize it as unthreatening.

Charlie felt the hands upon his head, wincing slightly at the pressure, though it wasn't enough to hurt. He finally mustered up enough courage to open his eyes to mere slits. As the form above him became recognizable, Charlie opened his eyes the rest of the way and looked up into the worried face of his older brother. The fear began to ebb as soon as Charlie focused on Don.

"That's right, Buddy. You're okay. Just look at me, all right? You're in the hospital. But you're okay. No one is going to hurt you, not while I'm around, okay?" Don smiled encouragingly at his brother, hoping Charlie would gain some strength from that.

"Wha?"

Don was able to understand that much from his brother. "You're okay, Buddy. You're strapped down because the doctor didn't want you moving around so much. You're still shaking from the QNB."

Charlie hadn't even noticed the shaking. It had become almost natural. He knew the effects would last a while but shaking had become a small worry. Still, the idea of being strapped down again, to be removed of the independence of movement, scared the hell out of him.

"Somebody get a nurse in here!" Don barked, waking their father.

"Donny? Is he all right?" Alan asked after he took in the scene.

"He's fine, go back to sleep, Dad."

Alan knew he couldn't sleep now, but he stayed in bed, watching his sons. He knew Don would be able to handle it, since he seemed to know how to take care of Charlie best.

A nurse entered the room and rushed over to Charlie and Don's side.

"Remove these restraints. They're scaring him."

"But, sir, he could fall out of bed. He already nearly took a tumble once today."

"I'll hold him myself. Just get them off him," Don ordered, not messing around when it came to his brother.

The nurse quickly removed the restraints strapped against Charlie's arms, chest, and legs. Charlie immediately started moving as his body was released from its prison. His arms still felt heavier than normal, but with a raising of his head, Charlie saw that he had casts on each of his wrists. He reached his arms up, attempting to remove the oxygen mask over his face. This proved impossible due to the casts. Understanding what he wanted, Don reached up and did it for him.

"What happened?"

Don chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, his way of coping. "A lot has happened since you were awake last."

Charlie just waited, watching Don. He waited for his brother to continue to explain. The nurse slipped out, promising to get his doctor to come soon.

"You had to have two surgeries. One to repair your lung, which was punctured by a broken rib. The other was to remove the bullet from your stomach. You're a walking anomaly, Buddy. A punctured lung, a gunshot wound to the stomach that missed all vital organs, five broken ribs, a minor concussion, second degree burns, two broken wrists, a broken nose, and an injection of quinuclidinyl benzilate, and you survived. That's not even counting the cuts on your face and the countless bruises. Did I forget anything?"

Don let his eyes wander over his brother. Charlie looked more like a mummy than a math professor. He had bandages on his forehead and cheek where he'd been cut. Beneath his hospital gown, Charlie's torso was wrapped from collarbone to navel. His wrists were wrapped in white casts. All that topped with the white hospital gown, he was more white than skin. His legs were the only exposed limbs. They were lined with purple, blue, and green bruises. Red cuts danced across the skin in odd patterns that told the story of how they got there. Angry red scars covered his calves and feet where third degree burns used to be. If the gown wasn't covering it, Don would have seen the scar from the gunshot wound on Charlie's upper thigh.

"Are you... okay?" Charlie asked Don. He had noticed his brother's attire, matching his own.

"I'm fine, Buddy. Don't you worry about me."

Charlie wanted to believe that, but he was still concerned. He reached up with his casted hand and lightly touched the area he remembered so well. He had seen the gun, saw the hand that fired it. Charlie pressed his fingers as best he could against the fabric of Don's gown and looked up into his brother's face, questioning.

Don didn't think it made any sense, but it was so like Charlie. Charlie had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Yet once it was all over, his main concern was Don.

"I'm okay, Buddy. I promise." Don covered his brother's hand with his own, grasping the exposed fingers through the cast.

Charlie gave his brother a shaky smile just as the doctor walked in.

"Hello, Charlie. I'm Dr. Jack Michaelson. It's good to see you recovering nicely. Your surgeries were a success. We removed the bullet and repaired your punctured lung. You'll have to stay for observation for a couple days, but you should be allowed to go home after that. With some much needed bed rest, you'll be good as new. The QNB running through your system should wear off in a few hours."

Charlie raised a skeptical brow at the doctor. He honestly couldn't see that happening.

"You sustained quite a few injuries. Two fractured wrists..." Before the doctor could continue, Charlie raised a hand to silence him.

"Trust me, Dr. Michaelson. I already know. Do I have to wear this oxygen mask?"

"No, not if you're doing well without it."

"I am. Now, if there's nothing else, I'd really rather be talking to my family right now."

Dr. Michaelson smiled, though a little insulted. "Very well then. I'll be in to check on you later."

As soon as the door closed behind the doctor, Charlie turned back to Don. He gave his brother a small smile, then noticed his father for the first time. Alan was watching silently. When his son's face turned to him, Alan smiled brightly, relieved to see his son.

"Dad?"

"I'm right here, Charlie boy."

Charlie smiled shakily, wanting so badly to go to his father, but knowing he couldn't with the wires and tubes connected to him. As if sensing what was wrong, Alan stood and walked over to Charlie.

"Should you be up? Are you okay? Why are you in the hospital? You didn't tell me Dad was hurt!" Charlie directed his questions at Alan, then turned accusatory on his brother.

"Sh, I'm fine. I just had a panic attack. They were worried about my heart, but I'm fine. I'm just here for observation." Alan reached out and stroked his son's hair. He was afraid to hug Charlie, which was what he really wanted to do. He didn't want to hurt his son, though, so he managed to stop himself.

"I missed you," Charlie said heartily, leaning toward his father's touch.

Alan's eyes misted over. "I missed you too, son."

Charlie smiled shakily, looking up at his father. He let his gaze move to his brother and he gave Don the same look, telling him with his eyes that he had missed him too.

"I was so worried about you," Alan whispered as he leaned down to kiss his son's forehead in one of the uninjured patches of skin. Charlie closed his eyes at the touch.

"I'm okay, Dad. It's all right."

Alan smiled at his son. It was odd to hear comforting words from his son, considering Charlie was the one who needed comforting now.

Weary from talking so much, Charlie lay down on his side. He was shaking harder now, inching toward the edge of the bed.

Don lay down beside his brother, wrapping an arm around Charlie's shoulders. He held his brother in place to keep Charlie from falling off the bed and further injuring himself. Alan moved back to his bed and lay down, facing his sons.

When a sudden whimper escaped Charlie's mouth, Don held onto his brother tighter. He rested his chin on his brother's shoulder a moment to speak into Charlie's ear.

"You're okay, Buddy. I'm right here. Don's here."

Charlie smiled at the reminder. He remembered Don's soothing words after he was rescued. They still were a comfort to him now.

"I knew she was right," Charlie mumbled before he drifted off to sleep.

Don frowned. Again that "she." Who was she? What was Charlie talking about?

Don looked over his brother's shoulder to his father, saw the question mirrored there. Don simply raised his eyebrows in an expression that meant, "I don't know either."

Don closed his eyes as he held his brother. Finally knowing his brother was safe, he closed his eyes and held onto Charlie, finding rest for the first time in days.

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Charlie's fear returned halfway through the night. A cold hand was gripping his gown tightly. His side was sore where his ribs were broken, having lain on them too long. He shook harder than before, not because of any drug. Fear radiated off him, and he had to bite back a scream.

"Charlie? What's wrong?" Don mumbled behind him, his voice still groggy with sleep. He could hear his brother's breathing change, felt him move.

Charlie immediately released the breath he'd been holding when he heard Don's voice. The claw of panic loosened its hold and he was able to breathe easy.

"Buddy?"

"I'm okay," Charlie answered, his voice pained.

"No you're not." Don got off the bed, retrieving his hand from around his brother.

Charlie started to move to his back. Moaning in pain, he found it difficult.

"Easy, Buddy. I gotcha." Don watched his brother struggle and placed a hand gently on Charlie's shoulder and helped ease him onto his back.

Charlie groaned as his back hit the mattress. It took the pressure off his ribs and he sighed in relief.

"You stopped shaking," Don noted.

"Yeah," Charlie replied, his eyes on the ceiling.

"I guess I'll go back to my bed then." Don started to walk away, but then Charlie attempted to grab his hand.

"Stay... please."

Don saw the pleading in his brother's eyes.

"Okay, Buddy. Hang on one sec, okay?" Don said as he leaned close to his brother.

Charlie watched as Don slid his bed as close as he could to Charlie's. Don got as close as he could, got in the bed, and laid down. He reached over and grabbed his brother's hand through the cast.

"I'm right here, Buddy. Get some sleep."

Charlie smiled at his brother as he closed his eyes. His fingers curled around Don's hand, trying to hold it as tightly as he could.

Don brushed his thumb over Charlie's hand, trying to soothe the tightness there and reassure his brother that he wasn't going anywhere.

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After Don and Alan were released from the hospital, they might as well have been readmitted. Neither left the hospital in order to stay with Charlie. Alan managed to leave for an hour to bring some things from home. Don, however, refused to leave his brother. They even went so far as to eat from the hospital cafeteria, though all three agreed the food tasted like rubber.

It was dinner time when Alan left for a while to make a phone call. Don had just gotten Charlie's dinner from the cafeteria. Charlie eyed it pitifully, embarrassed that he had to be fed like a child because of his broken wrists.

"So, what will it be first? Rubber chicken, plastic green beans, or metal mashed potatoes?" Don teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't care." Charlie looked away, humiliated as Don spooned him a first bite of mashed potatoes.

Don watched his brother's face. He knew this was hard for Charlie. He had barely spoken about what had happened since he'd been rescued, but Don could see the fear still lingering in his brother's eyes. The redness creeping into Charlie's face confirmed Don's suspicion that his brother was embarrassed.

"Hey, it's okay. You can't help not being able to feed yourself, man. Here, I won't even look."

Charlie finally turned his eyes to look at his brother, watching Don as he spooned a couple green beans and covered his eye. He attempted to bring the spoon to Charlie's mouth without looking. Charlie watched as the spoon went by his head a couple times, hitting the pillow. The next attempt hit him in the face and he winced as it hit his cheek.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Don exclaimed as he opened his eyes. But to his surprise he found Charlie smiling at him.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Don smiled in return, glad to see his brother looking happy. "So, I've been told."

Don offered his brother another bite, but Charlie turned it down. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Don's smile vanished and he looked at his brother seriously. "You've gotta eat something, Buddy."

"I'm not hungry, Don. Honest."

Don eyed his brother suspiciously, but he eventually gave in. "Okay."

Don sat back in his chair, watching Charlie. Charlie settled into the bed as comfortably as he could. His ribs still ached and the thin mattress of the hospital bed didn't help. It seemed no matter how he moved there was always a spring hitting him in the wrong places.

"You going to be okay, Buddy?" Don asked.

"I hope so," Charlie replied, closing his eyes.

Alan walked in a moment later, just peaking his head in. "Charlie, are you up for a few visitors?"

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at his father. "Sure, I guess."

Alan smiled and opened the door wider. David, Megan, and Colby all walked in, smiling broadly.

"Hey, Charlie. How are you feeling?" Megan asked first as she came over to the bed and kissed Charlie's forehead.

"Hey, man. You're looking better than the last time I saw you," David commented as he walked to the other side of the bed and attempted to shake Charlie's hand.

"How you doing, Whiz Kid?" Colby asked as he patted Charlie gently on the shoulder.

"Hey, guts. I'm going okay. Thanks for coming," Charlie responded, smiling at them all in return.

"You had us all worried, kid." Megan smiled at Charlie as she sat down next to his bed. She held out her gift, a small teddy bear from the gift shop.

"Thanks, Megan," Charlie replied, laughing softly about the gift.

"Where's that marker I had?" Colby asked himself before he pulled one out of his inside coat pocket. Pulling it out, he stepped up to Charlie and wrote his name on Charlie's cast.

"Wow. Thanks, Colby." Everyone laughed as the marker was passed between everyone, even Don and Alan, who hadn't had a chance to sign yet.

The three agents and three Eppes all talked for a while, sharing the excitement Charlie had missed out on and what had happened at the office that Don missed.

"So how did all three of you manage to get off work at the same time? Shouldn't someone be manning the office?" Don asked.

The three agents looked between each other a moment, then back at Don. David spoke first.

"Have you not gotten your message from Merrick?"

"What? No, I haven't been to the office in days."

"Oh. Well, you see, Thompkins is handling the case right now. We're all on mandatory leave for a couple weeks," Megan tried to explain.

"I don't understand. Why?" Don looked seriously between the agents. Charlie and Alan shared a glance in the background, watching the conversation play out.

"Don, we all shot Juan. The four of us," Colby finally answered bluntly.

Charlie's small gasp was enough to change their attentions. His eyes were full of tears as he looked around the room. Worried, Don stood from his chair at the end of the bed and came closer to his brother.

"What is it, Charlie? What's wrong?"

Charlie shook his head. "I can't believe you did that for me."

Megan smiled kindly as she watched Charlie. David and Colby shrugged, not knowing what the big deal was.

"Charlie, you realize you're one of us, right?" David asked.

Charlie smiled in return. "I guess so. I just..."

"We all wanted to get you back safe, not just Don. Of course we were going to do something too. I mean, our shots all went off within milliseconds of each other. There was no hesitation to protect you," Megan explained.

"I'd do it again if I could. There's no way we're going to let that happen to you again," Colby said forcefully.

Charlie could only choke back the tears as he managed to smile at his friends, his family. "Thank you... so much."

The three agents all just smiled in return, knowing it was worth it to see Charlie alive. Knowing that their friend and colleague was okay was enough reward for them. Charlie had become more than that, though. He had become a part of their family, a little brother to them all. They all wanted to protect him so it was only normal that they want to protect him by shooting the man responsible for hurting Charlie.

"We have another mandatory therapy session?" Don asked.

"Yeah, just to make sure we did it for the 'right reasons' or whatever since Charlie was the one involved. Should be a breeze," Colby answered.

After the agents left, Charlie tried to get to sleep, knowing the next day he would get to go home. He could hardly wait. He hated being here, under everyone's watchful eyes. If he could just get home he'd be okay. As he drifted off to sleep, he was able to sleep easy knowing that tomorrow he would be back in his own bed.

Don watched Charlie sleep and could feel his father's eyes on him instead of Charlie. Finally turning away from Charlie, Don faced his father.

"What?"

"Who is she?" Alan asked, hoping Charlie had told Don.

"I don't know. He said something about it when I first got him. He said something like, 'She told me you were coming.' I don't know what he was talking about. There was no one else there. He couldn't have been talking about Megan. So, I don't know. Do you?"

Alan shook his head. "I don't know... You don't think it's?"

"It's who?" Don asked, raising a brow in question.

"Margaret."

"Mom? No, couldn't be her." Don's breath had been stolen, though he tried to conceal it. Could it have been his mother? Had Charlie been closer to death than he knew about? Don didn't believe in ghosts, but the thought of his mother returning made him want to believe.

"We'll just have to ask him, I guess," Alan said, looking pointedly at his son.

Don smiled. "You mean _I'll_ have to ask, right?"

"Well, you have a way with him..." Alan smiled in return, though he wasn't joking. Charlie would do anything for his older brother, so Alan knew that Charlie would tell Don who she was.

"All right. I'll ask him tomorrow."

Alan smiled in satisfaction. As much as he knew Charlie would do anything for Don, he also knew that it went both ways. Don would do anything for his brother, if only Charlie asked, especially now while Charlie was hurt. Don had always been the one to protect Charlie. Years apart had distanced them, but Don had found his place as Charlie's protector easily and jumped back into the role. There was no denying the big brother in Don, the one that had a constant need to take care of Charlie. Alan was proud of his boys for all they did for each other, for him. He couldn't have asked for better sons if he wanted to.

Don watched Charlie as he slept. The poor kid still looked like a train wreck. His face was bruised and bandaged. Don hadn't even bothered to spend time looking at the exposed skin too much, knowing that the scars were from another time when he failed to protect Charlie. It scared the hell out of him to know all this could happen, right under his nose. Charlie still had a lot of explaining to do when it came to the NSA case, but he was in no hurry to hear it. Don just hoped his brother would make a fast recovery so they could finally put this all behind them once and for all.

**Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter. I tried to draw out all the brotherly moments that we all seem to love. Heehee! I seemed to be getting a lot of reviews calling for that, so what else could I do but deliver? LOL I hope it was what you were looking for! If there's anything else you want to see in this story before I end it, don't hesitate to tell me! I'll be glad to add it. It still has a few chapters left, but it'll be over before we know it. I'm sad about that, but also excited because it means new storylines to pursue. Thanks again for sticking around! More to come! s**


	20. Nightmares Slipping Into Reality

Don went in to check on his brother a couple nights after Charlie went home from the hospital. He hadn't been around 24/7, like he really wanted. Tonight he had missed his brother while Charlie was still awake, so he decided to check on Charlie to make sure he was all right.

As he walked through the door, Don moved as silent as the grave. He made his way through the dark room only lit by an outside light and the glowing moon. Shadows were cast along the walls, making it look like great beasts were hovering by Charlie's bed. Don focused on the lump of covers on the bed, knowing Charlie was sleeping fitfully underneath. As Don neared, he could see Charlie tossing about and muttering incoherent words, his voice pained and frightened.

Don stepped up to the bed and thought to wake his brother. Charlie seemed to be struggling through a nightmare. When Don reached a hand out, he gently stroked the exposed flesh of Charlie's face, pushing curls out of his brother's face in a move meant for comfort. Instead, Charlie seemed to wake in response and Don was nearly knocked off his feet when Charlie stood quickly. Charlie grabbed something under his pillow and lunged at Don. Before he could react, Don was pushed against the wall, Charlie's casted arm cutting off his air supply as the other hand held a knife out threateningly. Don had never seen Charlie's eyes look so manic, so threatened.

"Stay the hell away from me!" Charlie screamed, anger evident in his deathly cold voice.

Don gave a choked cough before trying to calm his brother down.

"Charlie, it's me," Don choked out, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace as the air quickly left his body.

Charlie blinked once and the world seemed to fade back into focus. Seeing what he was doing, he dropped the knife as if it were on fire and he pulled back and away from his brother. Don took the opportunity to step away from Charlie, a hand massaging his raw throat as he took in deep, gulping breaths.

"I could have killed you..." Charlie managed to get out, his voice shaky and guilt-ridden.

"It's okay. I've lived through worse," Don managed to say, trying to make light of the situation.

Charlie doubled over, shaking uncontrollably as he tried to fight tears. His breathing came out more ragged than Don's as he realized what he had just done.

"Hey, easy, Buddy. It's okay. You were having a nightmare. It's all right," Don soothed as he came to sit by his brother. He tried to touch Charlie, soothe him, but Charlie kept out of reach. He knew he didn't deserve Don's comfort.

"You're my... br-brother. I shouldn't have done that to you."

"Buddy, really, it's okay. You didn't know what you were doing."

Charlie balled his hands into fists as he looked down at them, seeing them shaking as well. "I don't even have control in my sleep," he mumbled, not expecting Don to have heard.

Don inched closer to his brother on the bed. He wanted to reach out to Charlie, offer him some sort of comfort. "Charlie, you're going to be okay. You have control. If Dad and I ever make you feel like you're not in control-"

"No, Don. It's not that. I just..."

Don looked at his brother, his face questioning. "Just what?" Don asked gently.

"I just wish that things could have been different. When this whole thing started and I first worked with the NSA on this case, I didn't have control. The NSA did. Yes, it was my decision to take the case, but there really was no other option for me. I wasn't going to turn it down. And then I got captured, I had no control. I was rescued, no control. I go to the hospital, no control. I come home and I finally feel like I have some control in my life. Then the nightmares start and before you know it Juan swoops in and I'm back to where I was, no control and always afraid. I don't want to be like that, Don. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder at every turn. I want to feel normal again, where life is the way I want it to be and I get to make the decisions, I call the shots."

"You're going to get back there, Charlie. I promise. It may take a while, but you're going to get there."

Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath, but it seemed to help calm him. He finally turned to Don and took the first step to reaching out. He reached out and grasped his brother's neck in an affectionate embrace. Don smiled at Charlie, happy to see the ghost of a smile that passed over his brother's face in return.

"So, uh, how have you been? How's therapy?" Charlie asked, changing the subject.

"I haven't started yet. I had to come in for some questioning today, but that was it. I'm sorry I wasn't around today. I really meant to be."

"It's okay, Don. You have your own life. I understand that. I was fine."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Don smiled, but it soon faded. As the two grew silent, Don worked to find a way to ask his brother the question that had been weighing on his mind, on Alan's mind as well.

"Charlie, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Charlie looked up at his brother, wondering what the question was. "Okay. What is it?"

Don swallowed hard, still trying to find the right way to phrase the question lingering in his mind. "When we first got you away from Juan, you said something about a woman. You said that she told you I was coming and later after you woke up in the hospital, you said you knew she was right. Who were you talking about, Charlie? There wasn't any woman with you when you were with Juan. Megan came later, but you couldn't have been talking about her, right?"

Charlie paled, unaware that his thoughts had been voiced. The she he was talking about would change everything. He didn't want to scare his family, who had already known how close to death he had been. But at the same time, there was no lying about this. There was no other "she" in his life that would be such a significant influence. No one else was there like "she" was.

"I... I saw Mom."

Don blanched. He had not been expecting it and he felt the reaction as if Charlie had punched him in the gut. "You... you what?"

"I saw Mom, when I was with Juan. He was torturing me and I was in so much pain. I blacked out and she was there. She spoke to me, told me you were on your way so I had to keep fighting. I knew then that I had to keep going. Before that, I was so ready to give up." Charlie's eyes glistened with tears. One spilled, unbidden, and he impatiently swiped it away. "I thought I'd lost you and Dad forever. I didn't know if you were safe or not. You two could have been dead for all I knew. I was so sure of it, and I was hurting so badly. I just... wanted to give up. It was the only way I'd finally stop hurting. But then Mom came and she told me how it wasn't my time, how you and Dad still needed me here. And I wanted to go with her, Don. I did. I love Mom and I miss her so much. I just wanted to go with her so we could finally be together again. But then I knew you and Dad weren't dead and I had to keep fighting. When I came to, I almost didn't believe it had happened. Logically speaking, it shouldn't have. It doesn't make any sense. But seeing how it was Mom, I had to believe her. If it had been anyone else, I would have passed it off a hallucination. But with Mom, no one knows me like her. It couldn't have been a dream, a hallucination, a fantasy. It was real. So I had to trust her to be right. And she was."

Charlie managed a smile, knowing that in the end his mother had been right and Don had been there, just like she'd said.

Don shuddered at the thought. Had his brother really seen their mother? Was Charlie really that close to death that he actually saw Margaret? It didn't make sense, but it scared the hell out of him.

"I know it's crazy. I don't usually believe and that sorta thing, but if it had been anyone else but Mom, I wouldn't. Don, if Mom hadn't been there, I would have been dead before you got there."

Don's head whipped around to face his brother. That was not a statement he wanted to hear from his little brother. Don's eyes misted over with tears and he pushed closer to his brother. He grasped Charlie's shoulders in his hands, desperately holding on.

"Why? Why would you say that? You would have been just fine! Mom had nothing to do with it. You're strong, Charlie. You are! Whether you believe it or not, you're stronger than you look. I know men twice your size who wouldn't have been able to withstand half of what you did. Where was Mom the first time? Huh, Charlie? You didn't have Mom the first time and you survived that. I wasn't there, but I know Mom didn't have anything to do with it. _You _kept yourself alive. _You_ saved yourself. No one else did that for you."

Charlie looked sadly into his brother's eyes, but nodded in agreement. He understood that this wasn't something his brother wanted to hear, but deep down, Charlie knew what he said was true. His mother had saved him. He had been ready to stop fighting before his Mom came to him. He thought his family was dead. What hope was there in that? Charlie couldn't think of any. But knowing his family was alive and safe was enough for Charlie to trust in, even if it was the word of a ghost.

"Don, it was Mom. I swear it was. I wasn't hallucinating. It was real."

Don searched his brother's eyes for the truth. Charlie was never one to make up stories and the seriousness in his voice told Don he must be telling the truth.

"I'm glad she was there then."

Charlie smiled shakily. "Yeah, me too."

Don brought his brother into a hug, made awkward by Charlie's casted arms. Looking over his brother's shoulder, Don saw his father standing in the doorway. He could see by Alan's face that he had heard the whole thing, if not most of it. Don smiled at Alan, getting one in return from his father.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," Don whispered into his brother's ear, holding tighter.

Unable to fully hug his brother, Charlie opted for gripping his brother's shirt. He tightened his hold in his hands and squeezed back. "I know. The same goes for me too."

Don smiled at his brother and set him back. Charlie smiled back and noticed Alan walking past his room out of the corner of his eye. "How much of that was Dad listening to?"

"Probably all of it knowing Dad." Don laughed.

"And I thought you and I were sneaky."

"Guess that's where we get it," Don teased as he patted his brother on the back. "Get some sleep, Buddy."

"Okay. You do the same."

"I will. Good night, Chuck."

"Night, Donald."

Charlie stuck out his tongue to his brother before he closed his eyes and settled into the bed. Don laughed to himself as he left his brother's room, closing the door behind him.

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Megan was up first. Being a behavioral specialist herself, she knew the game better than anyone else. Psychology was her specialty, and having it used against her wasn't exactly comfortable for her.

"So tell me about your relationship with the Eppes family. Would you say you're close to them?" Dr. Bradford asked the special agent.

"Being in our line of work, yes. I would definitely say I'm close to the Eppes family. I put my life in Don's hand every other day it seems. And Charlie has become a part of our team as much as if he were a real agent. I would trust either of them with my life, and have many times."

"And Alan? The father?"

Megan smiled. "Alan is a wonderful man. I haven't gotten to spend as much time with him as his sons but I have the deepest respect for the man."

"And how is your relationship with your father? Have you talked to him yet?"

Megan froze. She didn't remember talking to Dr. Bradford about her father last time. And if she had, she wouldn't have expected him to remember. "I tried calling him one night. He was at the lodge."

"That was the same thing that happened last time you tried to call. That's not the same time is it?"

Megan wiped her hair out of her face, though not a strand was touching her. She crossed and uncrossed her legs before answering. "No. No, I tried again. Seems he's always at the lodge."

"Tell me. Do you distance yourself from Alan because of your estranged relationship with your father?" Dr. Bradford leaned forward a little as he asked this question.

Megan's eyes widened, blanching. "No! That's ridiculous. Alan is nothing like my father. With the workload that I have, I don't have time to socialize. Honest. I barely have enough time for my boyfriend, let alone time to spend with my coworker's father."

Dr. Bradford nodded, taking a few notes. "You only have sisters, correct, Agent Reeves?"

"Yes, that is correct." Megan calmed herself, talking much softer this time.

"So you've never had a brother, like Don."

"No. I mean, Charlie's pretty much everyone's little brother in the office. No one else would actually say that, but it's true. We'd all do anything for him."

"Like killing a man?"

Megan stared at Dr. Bradford, her eyes hard. She paused a moment before answering. "Yes. When I do my job, sir, I do it well. If any civilian is being held at gunpoint, my job is to get them to safety. If that includes me shooting the armed assailant, then I will do it, regardless of who the victim is. I did my job that day. Yes, you may think I did it because of some sense of family I have because I'm too involved in the Eppes' lives. But when you work as a team and you trust every member with your life day in and day out, that's what you become. A family. If that means I'm too involved, go ahead and move me to another team. But I can guarantee that that team is as much of a family as my team is. And you know it."

Dr. Bradford barely let his mouth lift into a smile. "You're free to go, Ms. Reeves."

Megan gave a fake smile out of politeness. "Thank you." She slammed the door behind her and left the building.

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Colby stared down Dr. Bradford. He had been here enough times to know the drill. He still didn't like it. Psychology was not his field. It was hard enough dealing with Megan's ever-watchful eyes .Megan knew more than she let on about the team, and Colby knew that. It was written all over her face, shown in the knowing smiles and nods of approval. Sitting here in front of Dr. Bradford made the former soldier ready to squirm in his seat. However, by the stone cold look on his face, no one would guess Colby's inner turmoil with being questioned.

"So, Colby. Tell me a little about your team. How are things going?"

"Fine. We all get along great. We're always there for each other, have each other's backs."

"Even after you were discovered as a triple agent? That had to have put a strain on things."

Colby swallowed hard, thinking back on the weeks where David was always giving him the cold shoulder. It had take a while to gain that trust back, though Don and Megan had seemed to readily take him back. "We're all past that. It's not a big issue."

"Isn't it?" Dr. Bradford asked, raising a brow in question.

"No. I mean, yeah we had our differences about it. It took a while to feel normal again but we worked through it. Now we're fine."

Dr. Bradford nodded. "Tell me a little bit about your relationship with the Eppes family."

"It think they're great. I mostly spend time with Don, us working together and all. Charlie is by the office a lot, though, so I know him pretty well. I don't know Alan as well, but we get along fine."

"How close are you to the Eppes?"

"We're pretty close. It's hard not to get close when you work together as much as we do."

"And outside of work?"

"We'll hang out every now and then, grab a beer. I've been to Charlie's house a few times, but not very often."

Dr. Bradford nodded, keeping a close eye on the agent. "How is it to see Don and Charlie with their father? I understand you lost your father at a very young age."

Colby's jaw instantly hardened, his face void of any smile or warmth. "Who told you about that?" and it was as if his voice had turned to ice.

"No one had to tell me, Granger. I found out for myself."

Colby's heart stirred in his chest. This wasn't something he liked to talk about. He rarely opened up to losing his father. He was only thirteen when it happened, and it was never confirmed that his death was an accident... or a suicide. "It's none of your business."

"It is when I think it may have contributed to you shooting a man."

"Yeah, a man who had an innocent victim hostage and was about to kill him!"

"Three other shots were fired. What made yours so different? Why did you have to shoot as well?"

"We all fired within split seconds of each other. I had no way of knowing that they were going to shoot as well."

"Not even knowing that the victim's brother was among the shooters?"

Colby shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. We shoot people, sometimes kill them. That's part of the job, but that sure as hell doesn't mean we enjoy it. I was a soldier, Dr. Bradford. I don't know how many people I've killed in my life. I'd do it again if I had to, but don't think for a second that I like it one bit. Taking another life chips away at a person. There's nothing we can do to stop that. I can't guarantee that my team will shoot every time. I trust them to do the right thing, but I don't always want them to have to. When it comes to taking a man's life, I'll do it to stop them from having to. It doesn't feel good. It feels dirty every time. So when I thought I'd be the first to shoot, I took my chance. I didn't even want Don to have to go through that. Though that was his brother in there, I knew he'd regret it later. And Charlie wouldn't have wanted that for Don. So I took my shot, and it just so happens that three other shots went off as well. I don't regret that for one second."

Dr. Bradford nodded, already understanding he wasn't going to get anywhere with these agents today. He wouldn't be able to find any guilty of being too personally involved. There would be no way he could break up a team as perfect as this one. "So you wouldn't say you look to Alan Eppes as a father figure? A surrogate father for you?"

"I won't say I look up to the man, or that he reminds me of all the things I used to have in a father. But, no, he isn't a surrogate father. I respect as a man, and care for him as a friend. Nothing more."

Dr. Bradford let a smile light his eyes. "You're free to go, Agent Granger."

"Thank you, sir." Colby had yet to let the warmth return to his voice and he left Dr. Bradford's office with a stiff back and a glare in his eyes.

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David let a cool smile barely grace his lips as he watched Dr. Bradford with a blank stare. He didn't like being here anymore than his fellow agents, but he was determined to play it smart. He could handle whatever Dr. Bradford threw his way. In his heart, he knew he did the right thing.

"How is it working with the Eppes brothers? You've been with them for quite some time now."

"Going on four years now, yes. I enjoy working them. I think we complement each other nicely in our work."

"And outside of work?" Dr. Bradford asked, looking up from his notebook to catch the agent's facial expressions.

"We're still friends. But we don't get together very often. We mostly see each other at work."

"You spent time at Charlie's house when you were injured a couple years ago, didn't you?"

"Yes, to help protect the Eppes family. Don's family was being threatened at the time and I was put on the job to protect them, so I stayed at their house."

"You were called to protect them? WIth an injured arm?"

"Yes, sir. I'm still a good shot one-handed." David smiled proudly.

"I don't doubt that, Agent Sinclair. In all of your reports I've read, it seems you are okay with sticking to the rules, unlike Don."

"Don sticks to the rules when it's necessary. He just is okay with going beyond the rules when needed."

"And you? What makes you like the rules more than him?"

"I like having boundaries. I have to know where the line is. It helps me know what I can and cannot do, keeps me in line."

Dr. Bradford nodded. "Did you not have as much structure in your life as a child?"

"Things were difficult. I didn't always know where the boundaries were, but I made do."

"Whose rules were you following when you shot Juan Romero?"

"I did my job. It wasn't anyone's rules, except the rules I learned at Quantico. Charlie was in danger, held at gun point. There was an opening, so I took the shot. Nothing wrong in doing that."

"You don't feel you acted unnecessarily?"

David frowned. "Not at all. I had a job to protect Charlie. I couldn't just let him get shot and killed. He'd already been put through hell. I would have done the same thing for any other victim."

"When did you stop trusting your team? They could have done the job just as well, and three of them shot as well as you. Why couldn't you trust them to shoot? For that matter, why couldn't they trust you to take the shot?"

David visibly flinched, not expecting that question at all. His cool smile faded and he felt real fear in the pit of his stomach. Were they going to separate them? Did he really think they stopped trusting each other?

"I wouldn't say that at all. I trust my team with my life. I wouldn't trade them for the world."

"You didn't trust Colby Granger when he got back from being a triple agent."

"That was different! I felt betrayed. I didn't know he was being a triple agent. He was keeping tabs on me! What was I supposed to do? Just forget the whole thing happened? I would trust Colby Granger with my life any day of the week. Just because the four of us took the shot doesn't mean we don't trust each other. There's no taking turns with us, like Don shot the last guy so it's my turn. No. We don't know who is going to have to take the next shot. Yeah, this time we all took it. But that doesn't mean there's no trust. It means we know our job well enough to do the right thing when a victim's life is at stake. There was no way we were going to let Charlie die that day. None of us. So we all took a shot to make sure it wouldn't happen, and it worked. He's safe now, and that's all that matters."

Dr. Bradford smiled again and nodded his head. "That's all I needed to know. You're done, Agent Sinclair."

David stood, a little confused. He started to walk out the door when Dr. Bradford called his name.

"Sinclair, I expect you to be back at work tomorrow morning. Tell your friends."

David smiled. "Yes, sir."

**Sorry it's taken so long. A certain writer/reviewer on here who shall remain nameless (*cough* Clara Bren) got me hooked on Supernatural now, so I've been a little distracted. I was going to get to the next therapy session, but I thought this chapter was already long enough as is. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm guessing two chapters to go. The next one will have the therapy session with Don and Charlie and wrap a few other things up. Then I will write an epilogue where Charlie finally explains the whole NSA case. Sound good? I can't believe we're about to hit the one year mark! It's been a great year of writing. I hope you've had a good year of reading, for those have stuck it out from day one. Love you all and appreciate your reviews, that reached over 200! Yay! Thank you so much!**


	21. Waiting for the Aftermath of the Storm

Don and Charlie sat uncomfortably together on the brown leather couch in front of Dr. Bradford. They were spaced just so on the couch so that they weren't touching each other, but Charlie could feel Don as if they were arm to arm. Don could feel exactly where Charlie was, felt every shift his brother made and it took all of his willpower not to turn to Charlie and make sure he was okay.

Dr. Bradford sat at ease in his black arm chair, as if it were made for him. The Eppes brothers had just sat down for their session and neither one of them looked like they were there willingly.

"So, a lot has happened since we lost spoke, I understand," Dr. Bradford started casually.

Don and Charlie shared a look that said, "That's the biggest understatement of the century." Don gave Charlie a reassuring wink before they turned back to Dr. Bradford.

"Charlie, how are you doing since your latest capture?" Dr. Bradford asked, poising his pen above paper, ready to write.

"I'm okay. I'm obviously not one hundred percent, but I'm doing all right so far. I can't wait to get the casts off though," Charlie said lightly.

"I can imagine. And you, Don? How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. My shoulder is pretty well healed. I'm enjoying my time off, but ready to get back to work."

Dr. Bradford nodded. "Well, you told me how you are physically. What about mentally? Emotionally? Charlie, I understand you've been having nightmares."

Charlie's body stiffened. "Yes, but that's normal, right?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should needlessly deal with them alone."

Charlie worked his lower hip nervously. Don couldn't help taking a sideways glance at his brother, wondering how he was feeling.

"I had one really bad one... I pulled a knife on Don."

"In your nightmare?"

Charlie gave Don a guilty look. "No. It really happened."

Dr. Bradford looked Don's way, but saw no anger on the older brother's face. He turned back to Charlie and saw the guilt written there.

"What happened?"

"I was dreaming, having a nightmare about the last time I had been captured. I was half asleep and I could hear Don walking in my room, only I didn't know it was him. When Don reached out and touched me, I snapped. I grabbed the knife under my pillow and I pounced on Don. I pushed him against the wall and held a knife to his throat." Charlie shivered again at the thought, of what could have happened if he hadn't hesitated.

Dr. Bradford nodded in understanding. "How long have you had a knife under your pillow?"

Don's eyebrows rose. He should have thought of that question but he had been too distracted that night to ask. It hadn't come up since.

"Since... since I came back from the NSA case."

"What prompted that?"

Charlie gave Dr. Bradford a frustrated look, like he shouldn't have to answer that question. The answer was obvious. "Because I didn't feel safe anymore. I'd been tortured and abused for a week. I didn't exactly feel back to normal."

Dr. Bradford could see Charlie's anger and distress. Taking the focus off of Charlie, he turned to Don. "So, Don, how did you handle that?"

Don frowned in confusion. "Um, I don't know. I just told him that it was me. He snapped out of it and stopped. It was fine."

"But after that? How did it feel to have your brother hold a knife on you?"

Don's anger began to rise. "He didn't hold a knife on _me._ He thought I was someone else. He wasn't trying to hurt me."

"Yes, but it happened nonetheless."

"I was fine. I was more worried about Charlie than about me."

Dr. Bradford knew he wouldn't get anything else out of Don about the subject. "How was it to see your brother chained up? I understand you were there, apart of the rescue team that saved Charlie. Despite medical advice."

Don nodded smugly. "Yes, I was there." His smile faded as he thought back to how Charlie looked that day. "It was awful. All I wanted to do was run up and get him off those chains. But I knew I couldn't. I had to force myself to act like a professional. I knew if I acted out of instinct I could have ended up getting me or Charlie killed. That wasn't a risk I was willing to take."

"And then what? How did it feel taking the shot that killed Charlie's attacker?"

"Well it wasn't just my shot. There were four shots. Who knows which one was really the one that took him out for good?"

Dr. Bradford leaned forward slightly. "Did that upset you? Not being able to take the attacker out yourself?"

Don's eyes flared. "No! I'm not bent on killing everyone with a bad bone in their body! It's not easy killing people, no matter who they are!"

"Unless they hurt your brother."

Don angry clenched his fists. "Yeah, it might be a little easier if they hurt or threaten my family, which he did. But I _never_ take killing someone lightly. There's a cost for taking someone's life, and anyone who has ever killed knows that."

Charlie nodded in understanding and both Don and Dr. Bradford turned to look at him. He was staring down at the floor, his eyes intent on the corner of the room, as though something would happen fast and he had to keep his eyes open and fixed on it or he'd miss out for sure.

"It's true. It... it changes you."

Dr. Bradford frowned, not knowing that Charlie had killed Jose Romero. "Charlie?"

Charlie finally looked up to Dr. Bradford. "I killed someone. My... my first attacker. I killed him. It... it hurt me. I knew he deserved it! He had done so many things to me, I thought he had killed Don. But it still hurt! I wanted him dead but to actually do it killed a part of me. It's like a section of my heart just died and fell off. It chipped away at me like nothing else ever had. And I could feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. I shut down. I wasn't there for a while, because I couldn't look at myself. I couldn't see my hands, knowing that they were hands that had killed. They were my hands, but I felt like I was wearing gloves. Like I had on someone else's hands on my body. 'Cause there was no way I could be a killer, right? But I knew they were mine, so I shut down to block myself from seeing my hands, my reflection that owned those hands. 'Cause then I'd have to admit that I had done it. And that's not something I ever will be okay with. Never. I ended a life and that's all there is to it."

Don had never heard Charlie talk so much about killing Jose. He wished that he had because Don would have been able to relate, since even now he shared those feelings. Sure he had gotten past the point of shutting down and he managed better with taking a life. But it was never easy, and he never thought it was okay, even though it's necessary.

Dr. Bradford raised his brows, sharing a look with Don. "Charlie, did you come to grips with what you did? You understand that the man who did that to you, the man you killed, he deserved to be killed? I know it won't making killing any better or that it makes it right, but you weren't wrong. It might not be right, but it wasn't wrong either."

Charlie gave Dr. Bradford a teary look. "I know that. But I still don't feel good about it."

Don nodded in understanding. "You never feel good about it, Buddy. Never."

Don blinked gently as he let his mind drift to his first kill. The man had been robbing a bank and aimed his gun right at Don. It had been instinct, though he had never shot another person before in his life. The fight or flight mode kicked in and he squeezed the trigger. The man dropped like a ton of bricks, his blood staining the white tiles on the floor, splaying out like waves on the shore. Don had been speechless. His mouth had hung open and he had fallen to his knees, unable to catch a full breath. He had known he had to do it. There was no one else to react fast enough. If he hadn't fired, he would have been killed. As much as Don valued his own life, he never felt good about the kill. Never.

Don reached out and grasped his brothers fingers through the cast, like the head of a turtle coming out of the shell. Charlie looked up at him with eyes that begged for his reassurance.

"It's okay, Buddy. You did the right thing. I know it doesn't feel good, but know you made the right decision. He would have killed you, Charlie. That's something I would never be okay with. I know it hurts, but if you did what you had to do and I'm proud of you for it. I wasn't there to save you that time. You had to do it for yourself and you did. That's all that matters to me."

Charlie smiled tentatively at his brother. It was what he needed to hear. Though the guilt of taking a life was still strong in his mind, he knew if Don thought it was okay, it had to be all right.

Dr. Bradford smiled as he seemed to go unnoticed by the brothers. He watched the interaction, knowing the feelings that went unsaid between them.

"And how do you feel about it, Don? You said yourself you weren't there to save him that time. Is that hard for you?"

Don swallowed hard, looking at his brother. Charlie's eyes pleaded with him to open up, like he had. Charlie had bared his soul over how he felt about taking Jose's life. It was Don's turn.

"I hated it. He was gone for months and I had no idea where he was. That's not something I ever enjoy. I didn't know where he was, what he was doing. He had a story, sure. But deep down I knew that it wasn't true. Then I get some weird email from him saying he couldn't email for a while and would write as soon as he could. It just... it didn't sound like Charlie. I didn't believe it was him. Deep in my heart I knew something was wrong. I knew, and it drove me nuts. I'm the older brother, you know? If anyone is going to take care of Charlie, it sure as hell better be me."

"Do you trust anyone else to take care of Charlie?" Dr. Bradford asked, curious.

"My dad," Don answered shortly, honestly.

Dr. Bradford smiled. "What about Charlie? He seems capable of taking care of himself."

Charlie gave Don a look that asked, "Do you trust me?" His raised brow questioned Don, awaiting an answer.

"Yes. I do. But I feel better if I'm with him."

Charlie smiled in response. He knew his brother well enough to know that Don liked being the protector. It was easy enough to tell. Don's ever-watchful eye pretty much screamed "overprotective older brother."

Dr. Bradford looked between the brothers. He moved back to Charlie, watching him closely.

"Tell me more about your nightmares, Charlie. Do they happen often?"

"Every night."

Don looked over at Charlie quickly. What? He hadn't known.

"It must be hard getting sleep then," Dr. Bradford commented.

Charlie nodded. "Three hours a night isn't much." He laughed, no humor in the sound.

Don's heart constricted and he had to swallow hard to push the emotion down. He hated hearing his brother struggling like that. Charlie had been through enough lately. He didn't need to be sleep deprived on top of all that.

"What usually happens when you wake up from the nightmare?"

"I usually force myself to wake up in my dream. I wake up, shaking or sweaty. Sometimes I scream. I try my best to get to sleep, but it's like someone put adrenaline in an IV and pumped it through my veins. I can't calm down enough to sleep, so I usually go to the garage and work on my cognitive emergence theory, or I watch TV. Something quiet so I don't wake Dad."

"Does he usually wake up?"

"No. He's a pretty sound sleeper." Charlie smiled fondly.

"Tell me about your dreams. What usually happens?"

Don turned toward Charlie silently, trying to catch every word. His brother hadn't exactly been the most open about what he was dreaming. Though Dr. Bradford was the professional, Don wanted to help his brother in any way he could. If going to a therapy session together was the only way to get Charlie to open up, Don would schedule one every day if that's what it took.

"It's always about what happened to me. Sometimes it's something that really did happen me. Sometimes it's something worse, or something different. Dad has been there. Don has been there before."

"What happens when they're with you?"

Charlie swallowed hard, his lower lip quivering slightly as the images flashed in his head. "Dad was killed once. He was... electrocuted and had a heart attack. He was tortured for every time I screamed in pain while they tortured me. I bit my own tongue off in the dream, just trying not to utter a sound. Then Don was tortured with me. I watched him bleed out, get whipped and burned. Eventually he was burned alive. His clothes were caught on fire and he... burned up."

Charlie's eyes got huge, his breathing coming out in shaky puffs. He got a far away look as his whole body tensed.

"Charlie? You okay, Buddy?" Don asked, reaching out to touch his brother's arm. Charlie shied away from him, out of reach.

"Charlie?" Dr. Bradford questioned, wondering how the professor was doing.

"I'm always back there, chained like an animal. Sometimes it's the first time and I can just barely run away. I try but there's not enough slack in the chain. I run, but I fall. The chain holds me back. Other times I'm there the second time, hanging from the ceiling like a hunter's kill. I just... can't ever get away. I just keep telling myself, 'Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.' But sometimes it's like I'm never going to wake up. I feel it and it goes on, and on, and on." Charlie stood, pacing toward the window. Don started to get up, to stop him, but Dr. Bradford held up a hand to stay him.

"I feel everything again, like I'm back there. And sometimes I wonder if it really was a dream. If maybe I'm never going to wake up because I'm really there. I'm back there every night and sometimes I wonder if it's really worth going to sleep."

Don stood this time, going to Charlie. He grasped his brother's shoulder, trying to comfort him. Charlie spun around, his eyes wild and panicked. He reached for Don, grasping the front of his brother's shirt with both hands as if it were his only lifeline. His legs went completely out from under him and Don had to hold up his brother's weight. Charlie gasped, breathing heavy and choking.

"Charlie!" Don shouted in response. Dr. Bradford stood quickly and joined them. Don lowered Charlie to the floor, who had been hanging limply from his shirt and in his arms.

Charlie moved his hands from Don's shirt to his hand. He clutched one in his hand, holding tightly. He closed his eyes, fighting off the pain that came with the memories. It was like every marking on his body flared read hot with pain, re-igniting old pains.

"Charlie. Listen to me. It's okay. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. You're all right. You can open your eyes," Dr. Bradford said in an attempt to calm Charlie down. However, his voice never broke through. Nothing could until his brother's voice sounded.

"Buddy, calm down. You're okay. I'm right here. You don't have to be scared. Just open your eyes for me. Let Don see those eyes," Don said, reverting back to a phrase he had often told his brother when waking him up for school.

Charlie managed to open his eyes, looking at Don. His breathing slowed but the shaking continued. He leaned his weight into his brother as Don wrapped his arms around Charlie.

Dr. Bradford smiled as he watched the brothers. Don's protective side was out full force and Charlie's trust could be seen from a mile away. The brothers were okay, no matter what. Charlie might be hurt and scared and still a little traumatized. Don might be worried, overprotective, and feeling guilty for not protecting Charlie. But through it all, they were okay. They were still brothers, still were there for each other when it was needed most. Dr. Bradford had no doubt in his mind that those two brothers would be able to weather any storm that would be thrown their way.

Because as soon as the storm was over, they'd still be standing side by side... as brothers.

**Hey guys! As always, I'm sorry for the delay in updating! Supernatural has been taking over and so has school. Busy, busy, busy! I only expect there will be one more chapter this. The next chapter will be the explanation chapter that explains the whole NSA case. If I failed to add something that you would like to see, please let me know. I will try my best to update soon. Thanks for sticking with me this far! It's been over a YEAR. Crazy, right? Love to all!**


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